


Dead Heart

by OhioIsntReal



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Female Character, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, attempt at slow burn, reader is bad at feelings, reaper is bad at feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-04-21 04:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22038505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhioIsntReal/pseuds/OhioIsntReal
Summary: Working as a bar tender Isn't exactly easy work.  Tips are hard to come by and your ridiculous hours make you nocturnal.  Everything has been going fine in your little career, that is up until a masked man changes your life forever.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	1. Small Town Sally

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This work is copied from my other account on wattpad that shares the same name from this account. Sorry if the beginning is odd, or my tags are off, I've never really ever written fanfiction on this site, so I'm a bit new. Other than that, I hope you enjoy! Also, the chapters do get longer, this first ones are a bit short to introduce the story.

The constant laughing of the many drinkers at the bar filled your ears, sending vibrations of sorrow through your spine.

You've never had the privilege of being able to go in a bar like this with friends, instead, you work at them.

Every single day, besides Tuesdays, you work at this very bar, having to resort to your body for tips. It's not like it bothers you all that much, you'd power through this to keep living in your small home for anything.

Your mother owned that house and you were determined to keep paying it off, no way would you sell it to some druggies.

Getting up from your place behind the bar you made your way over to a round table full of half drunken men and women, making sure to bend down for a few extra dollars that night.

They had been waving you down for a while now, determined to get another drink, or maybe another peek under your shirt, honestly, you couldn't quite tell.

A cold chill quickly snapped you out of your thoughts, it also managed to shut up most of the people in the bar.

The once lively place had turned sour and cool, people started to shift in their seats, eager to leave at the sudden appearance of this, this, thing.

Curling up your nose at the masked man that had entered the small establishment was a mistake. You could tell he noticed by the way he turned his head to get a better look at you, his pearly white mask covered with cuts from assumed battles couldn't of been more intimidating.

The bleeding crimson eyes that lay behind his mask shook you to your very core, making it apparent that he had killed before and wasn't afraid to do it again.

It wasn't just his eyes that had tipped you off, it was also the overwhelming stench of blood and death that dripped off of him ever since he had stepped into the bar.

Your eyes lingered a bit too long, you only realized this when he chuckled, his bare hands quickly slipping into his hoodie's pockets.  
He wore large black combat boots with a pair of light gray pants underneath, a hoodie adorned his shoulders while the overwhelming mask lay on his face.

Taking long strides to the bar he sat down, the stool creaking slightly as he did. His index and middle finger waved you down, he didn't even bother looking behind him to face you in the eye. 

Holding back an annoyed huff you quickly walked over to him, trying your best at pretending not to notice his gaze on you as you did.

If you showed any sign of annoyance or weakness he'd eat you alive, and you've come to know that little fact well, it never turned out okay when people saw the real, scared, you.  
Fingers tapping on the old wooden bar told you to hurry, if you knew him any better you would've gone faster than you did, even with a mask on you could tell he was losing the little patience he had.

"What would you like, sir" you quickly piped up, eager to give the man what he wanted so you could leave as quickly as possible.  
A chuckle escaped the mask, his voice was deep and hoarse, almost like a smokers, but his was much more otherworldly.

"Strongest rum you have," he glanced behind him, gazing at the now riled up regulars, "planning on having fun tonight."  
Somehow the manner of speech he had calmed you down some, sure, he looked and sounded quite intimidating, but at least he didn't seem mad.

"Of course, right away," you squeaked out, quickly finding a glass and the alcohol in question, dropping in two ice cubes the drink was finished.

Handing the large man the drink you avoided eye contact, too terrified to look into the crimson eyes that lay behind the mask.  
Chuckling at this he took a swig of the drink, not thrown off his feet at the knock back, but pleasantly surprised.

Intrigue splashed across your face when he drank, lifting up his mask would often show off a bit of his features, yet he made it a point to cover them well.

"This is good," he started, lifting up the drink slightly as stared at it, "how long have you worked here for?"

The question caught you off guard, yet nevertheless you replied, "oh, for about a year or so."

He nodded at your response, finishing his drink and merely glancing at you for another. You quickly made him a second drink, a bit confused on the man's intentions.

He had been treating you nicely so far, his appearance was a bit off putting, but he hasn't done anything untrustworthy. Pushing it in his direction you quickly head off to another person who had just sat down at the bar, eager to help someone else.

Just as quickly as he arrived he had left, leaving a generous tip under the empty glass. Truthfully you were glad he was gone, but it being near closing time meant it didn't matter much. So with a sigh you prepared to close, hoping you'd never see the eerie man again.


	2. Rum

It had been a little over a month since you last saw the strange character, and you definitely weren't complaining.

He honestly didn't scare you as much as you thought he would given his intimidating nature.

Because of his utter lack of presence in the recent days, you've let your guard down.  
You even managed to start forgetting about the less than pleasant encounter.

With a damp rag in hand you circled the worn wood bar, attempting to clean off a strangely sticky smudge that appeared on your day off, that day being yesterday.

With a loud sigh you scrubbed even harder, determined to get the darn thing off.

You were about to blow a fuse from sheer frustration when you heard a muffled laugh.  
Looking to the source of badly hidden amusement you were amazed to see the man that had stricken so much fear into you, laugh.  
To top it all off you didn't even know he came in, was he silent as a mouse or were you just plain dumb? Probably a healthy mixture of both.

Seeing the man desperately trying to hold back a laugh made you turn a bright beet red, if you saw your face you'd be laughing too.

Your facial expression sent the man over the edge, a laugh exploded out of him that you could easily hear over anyone else's. A laugh that could strike as much joy into someone as his mask could strike fear.

This only made you laugh as well, not as hearty as his, but it was still a chuckle. Seeing the once stoic man erupt into laughter made you blush a bit, not just because you were embarrassed, but also because he seemed to put his walls down around you, at least a bit.

After the laughter had subsided you both let out a loud sigh, followed by the man asking for a drink.

"I'm not sure what the rum was called, but can I have that one again?"

He chuckled out, pausing every few words to laugh. You only nodded at him with a small smile, he suddenly didn't seem as intimidating as before.

Sliding the glass of rum over to him, you eased into the situation, he seemed normal, besides the whole "probably is a murderer" thing.

You both silenced for a while, him taking the occasional swig from his rum, and you tending to other attendees. He had eventually finished his drink and waved you down for another.

You gave him a small smile as you prepared his drink, quickly finishing up as to not keep him waiting. Sliding the drink over to him, you were just about to help another person when his attention seemed drawn to you. Trying to match his gaze, you realized he must've been looking at your name tag.

"Thanks," he started, slight hesitation in his voice, "(Y/N), was it?"

"Mmhmm" you replied, nodding your head, "and you?"

He seemed slightly taken aback that you had any interest in who he was, must've been used to people brushing him off.

"Reaper."

He plainly said, his voice going monotone, even though it was an odd nickname, you at least were able to put a name to the face. Trying to hold back a giggle you smiled to yourself, Reaper wasn't exactly what you were expecting to call the large man.

"What's so funny?" He grumbled, taking a swig of alcohol as he did.

"Nothing, it's just, I didn't know you had such a funny nickname." You giggled out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

He merely grunted at your response, turning his head a bit so he wouldn't face you. Uncomfortable with the silence you decided to speak up, you had a few questions anyways.

"Reaper," you started, getting his attention before you continued "why did you leave so suddenly all those nights ago?"

He seemed surprised at your words, hesitating to answer your question, yet nevertheless he responded.

"Why do you care" he stated blankly, no longer looking you in the eyes, instead at his glass of rum.

You only managed to squeak out a sorry before leaving to help other people at the bar. While doing so, you failed to see the masked man stare at you intently, endless questions of his own circling in his mind.


	3. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original chapter notes---  
Quick question for y'all, should I make these chapters longer and more descriptive? This was originally something I could write when I felt like writing angst, but I've thought of taking it seriously. Please comment your opinions!

You stretched behind the bar counter, earning a satisfying pop as the clock ticked into the wee hours of the night.

Reaper had been coming into the bar around this time as far as you could tell. The last two times he arrived was close to how late it was at the moment.

You couldn't exactly say you wanted to see him again, but you also couldn't say you didn't want to see him again. He was definitely an intriguing character, and you couldn't help but notice his better than average build.

You would never admit that you had been checking out a possible criminal, that's something you planned on taking to the grave. You could also never mention that you occasionally caught him sparing a few glances at you. Not being one to dress modestly must've added in some extra flare.

This night had definitely been a slow one as you nearly dozed off more times than you'd like to admit. Customers never seemed to come into the bar during work nights, hell, who could blame em? No one wants to be hungover while in an office meeting.

Leaning on the bar allowed your eyelids to feel heavy, your body started to go limp from sleep deprivation when you were blissfully interrupted.

"Hey (Y/N)," a deep voice cooed out, intoxication swirling through the light tone, "miss me?" His finger law beneath your chin as he pulled your face up to his, his body reeking of alcohol and blood.

Your nose instantly curled up at this as you coughed out the overwhelming stench, pulling out of his grasp as you did. You recognized the man as reaper, but were quite surprised at his forwardness, it must've been his obvious over consumption of alcohol, otherwise he would've been much more closed off.

"Hey Reaper, I don't think I can be giving you any drinks tonight." You said while holding back a small laugh, drunk reaper was definitely funnier than sober reaper.

The man sunk into his bar stool, he had clearly heard this response before but seemingly decided to stop bar hopping, if even you wouldn't serve him, no one would.

He quickly glanced around the small establishment, upon realizing that you were the only people in the place, he turned back around.

"Slow night?" He slurred out, propping his head on both of his hands, adamant on not passing out.

"Yeah," you started, grabbing a rag as you started to clean off the counter, "pretty much."

He chuckled at this, a twinge of loneliness had been lingering in his voice, the hollow laugh only amplified this.

"Hey," you slammed the rag on the counter, effectively catching the man's attention, "I don't like this, you've clearly had way too many, are you alright?"

Reaper seemed nearly taken aback by your sudden interest on his mental state, looking   
away from you he replied, "it's nothing you need to worry about."

Sighing at his response you continued to rub down the counter, effectively getting your mind off of reaper. You shouldn't care about him anyway, by the looks of it he has done awful things to quite a lot of people, so why did you want to help him in the first place?

You huffed at your own thoughts, now in a sour mood due to reapers refusal of opening up, what did you expect? You've only known him for a month or two, and even then you would only talk to him during work.

Turning back to the masked man you were surprised to find him passed out on the counter. Worry got the best of you as you quickly fumbled over to him, shaking his shoulders as you called out his name.

Just as you expected, he was out cold. A twinge of curiosity surged through you as you realized you could easily take a look under his mask. You'd be an idiot to deny your blatant intrigue, who wouldn't be interested in knowing who they were talking to?

You inched closer to him, your fingers now lay on his mask, brushing the side as you gripped it. You faltered, would you really be breaking the trust you two had?

Letting your arm fall to your side in defeat, you decided to check the time, attempting to distract yourself from the unconscious man on the counter. It was about closing time, perfect, this could give you a decent excuse to take him to the back and check up on him.

This definitely wasn't the first time you had customers blacking out on you, and you doubted it would be the last. You somehow worked up the nerve to help him into the break room, quickly walking around the bar counter in attempts at picking him up.

Putting reapers arm over your shoulder and hoisting him up was a difficult task to say the least. He was understandably heavy due to his physique and unconsciousness.

Because of his overall weight, you ended up dragging him to the back room. You tried to avoid thinking about what would happen if he woke up, hopefully you'd be heading home unscathed.

Somehow you ended up opening up the break room's door, sliding in the unconscious man as you laid him onto a chair, his head leaning back due to lack of support. You giggled at his less than savory state, amused that he hadn't woken up.

You decided to sit across from him, head in hands as you mindlessly tapped on your phone, waiting for him to wake up, not having enough nerve to wake him up yourself. You sighed out of boredom and nervousness, would be mad when he woke up? He wouldn't know his surroundings, and maybe he was more of an angry drunk, you shivered at the thought of what he would do in an angered, drunken state.

After what seemed like hours, you put down your phone as your attention now focused on the potential murderer, a tone of worry lingering in your mind. He should've woken up by now, it had been well over two hours, and from experience drunkies usually woke up after the first hour, often to puke.

You decided to check on him, quite curious as to why he hadn't woken up, so out of unbridled worry, you checked his pulse. Putting two fingers on his neck was a bit difficult due to the owl mask, yet you somehow managed, your blood quickly going cold at the faintness of his pulse.

Managing to stifle a scream, you quickly started to shake him, your grip was as hard as ever, terrified he was going to go into the light, or something cheesy like that. Almost pathetically, tears started to stream down your heated face, mind already racing of what you were going to do, would you take him to the hospital? Who would you call? What would you-

Before a second too soon, your racing thoughts were immediately halted by a gnarly grip on your neck and the eyes of a cold blooded murderer.

Your heart skipped a beat at the gravely sight before you. The man was no longer in any state of mind to think about what harm might come to you, or what he could inflict himself. You definitely weren't eager to look into his bleeding crimson eyes. The more you stared at them, the more you felt the life drain out of you, the more you felt your soul being taken from you.

You started to gasp and claw at his scarred hand around your neck, his grip had been slowly becoming tighter, and his eyes only more menacing, less human.

A small, "r- reaper," was all you could manage, sending the man back into reality, quickly releasing his hold on your windpipe. His eyes faded away from the deep swirling red that once plagued your mind, instead all that lay behind the mask was darkness, a calming darkness.

Due to the circumstances of his coming to, you were dropped onto the floor, which was followed by a brutal coughing, from both you, and the man that nearly strangled you.

Reapers form quickly crippled to the floor, his hand was clawing at his throat while he seemed to be dry heaving. You quickly ignored what he'd done to you and came to his aid, gently rubbing his back while he hacked up what you assumed to be vomit.

Instead of seeing some sort of bile, you were instead faced with a black, tar like substance seeping out of the man's mask, affectively freezing you in your place.

You stifled a scream at the sight as endless questions flew through your mind. Deciding to swallow your fear, you continued to rub the man's back, small words of reassurance as the thick tar ballooned out of his mask.

You managed to catch reaper sparing you small glances, if he didn't have a mask you would've seen a look of pain and guilt, a stark contrast of his usual gruff exterior.

Small tears etched off your cheeks at the state of his being, somehow you felt responsible for this happening, maybe you could've prevented it.

"Why," he started, swiftly getting interrupted by another wave of vomit, "are you crying?"

His words sounded pained, you couldn't tell if it was because of his sickening state, or because you were upset, whatever it was didn't really matter to you at the time.

You hesitated at his question, a bit surprised that he noticed your tears, much less comment on it. You continued to rub his back through your response, sniffling all the while.

"I feel like I did this to you, I should've done something-," you were cut off by reaper responding a bit early.

"I did this to myself, you shouldn't worry about me, I'll be fine," he spoke softly, a twirl of intoxication lingered in his words, in any other state of mind he wouldn't of been so open, so honest.

Your heart felt heavy at his gestures and being, at this point he seemed to be looking better, better enough to head to the restroom and clean up.

You sighed into a reply, a few sniffles making their way into your words, "how bout we head to the restroom and get you cleaned up?"

Nodding at your proposal he shakily stood up, putting an arm over your shoulder as he let out a slight chuckle, presumably at his reliance to you.

You gave him a weak smile, slowly leading him to the men's restroom as you held onto his hand that was on your shoulder, circling his exposed skin with your thumb.

As you made your way into the bathroom, he stumbled to one of the sinks, no longer facing you as he reached for his mask.

"Don't look," he grumbled out, you complied by putting your hands over your eyes, looking down at your shoes as you waited for him to finish up whatever he was doing.

"Keep em closed for now, I'll tell you what to do," his voice was smooth like honey, sure, it was rough and a bit scratchy, but it was calming, almost like he was an old friend.

You smiled into your hands at the thought of this, "ok, I have my mask off so don't look at my face, but I can let you clean the mask if you'd like."

You nodded a bit at his explanation, now looking down at the floor as you outstretched your hands, signaling for him to give you his mask.

The surprisingly light weight material was dropped onto your hands. Bringing the mask closer to you, you inspected it, it being vaguely stained with blood didn't feel very comforting. What mattered much more to you was the fact he had literally taken his mask off around you. If you weren't so worried for his well being then you would've noticed your heart flutter.

Hearing the sink in front of reaper turn on signaled for you that it was ok to start cleaning his mask. Walking over to the neighboring sink you slathered the mask with soap before running it under the hot water, the sickly tar quickly finding its way down the drain.

"You do this often?" You said with a chuckle, subtly gesturing towards the tar like substance dripping off the mask, eyes transfixed on the mask as to not upset the man next to you.

He chuckled at your comment, a smile clear in his reply, "yeah, but only when I get drunk out of my mind."

You smiled at his reply, glad that he was feeling some resemblance of better. Drying off the mask with your shirt you walked up to Reaper, handing him the mask through a warm smile, a soft blush finding its way on your cheeks.

He let out a small sigh at the sight, a bit surprised that you were acting this way after he nearly strangled you. Brushing this to the side he put on his mask.

A strong grip found its way onto your arm, it wasn't painful or demanding, in a strange way it was comforting.

Looking up into the masked man's eyes you gazed at him with you mouth agape, a bit confused on what he was doing.

Even though you couldn't see his eyes, you could tell they held a certain longing, an emotion that you couldn't quite place. He hesitated, he had been wanting to say sorry, no, he needed to say sorry, but he couldn't get the words out of his mouth. Instead, he patted your shoulder, emitting a soft sigh as he whispered a good bye, one that was painfully genuine.

"I'll see you soon, I won't be such a fuck up next time."

Before you could reply he was gone, a thick black smoke following his dissipating form.

Why did you want him to say more?


	4. Bones

Thrashing this way and that had been become painfully usual to you in the recent weeks. Reaper hadn't returned like he said he would, making this his longest leave of absence, one that was over three months long.

You'd be a fool to say you weren't worried for him, hell, how could you not be? The last time you saw him he had been vomiting something foul, something you couldn't define.

Your thoughts had been keeping you up, turning you into a mini insomniac, even though you barely knew the guy, your heart ached for his well being, for him. You groaned as you finally decided to get out of bed, work was in just a few hours and you'd be going without a wink of sleep, just peachy.

You lazily made your way out of bed, deciding to get a little fancy with your makeup this time around, you had an extra hour to spare after all. You ended up going with a light Smokey eye with a few red accents at the corners of your look. You went with a slightly red highlighter and lip in attempt to tie the whole thing together, somehow you managed.

Satisfied with your makeup you did your hair and threw on your clothes, breakfast would have to be quick, due to your makeup extravaganza. Not checking the time would nearly make you tardy this time around, just what you get for moping in your room.

Grabbing an apple and sinking your teeth into the fruit, you headed out of your apartment, the bar being just around the corner meant you could walk there. That didn't mean it was a fun walk, you managed to live in the worst part of town, only reason you did was because it was the only place you could afford.

The streets were old and caked with dirt, the sidewalk had too many cracks to count, and the street lights flickered constantly, not something nice to see at night. What was even better was that you had the night shift at the bar, meaning you slept during the day and your shift started at nine at night, which meant you had to walk alone, in the dark. Super comforting.

You fidgeted with your hands as you made your way to your job, stress whining down as you got closer and closer to your goal. You'd never had anything odd happen to you on these streets, and tonight wasn't an exception, you sighed as you entered the bar, glad to see some usuals already on their drinks.

You quickly made your way behind the bar counter, eager to start your job in attempts to distract yourself from the empty hole that plagued your stomach, you'd never admit it, but the stress was eating at you.

Forcing on a fake smile you took people's orders, pretending like you didn't hear their condescending comments or remarks on your appearance, you just didn't have the stomach to respond.

The small hole in the wall bar quickly went from desolate to packed in under an hour, it almost seemed like the bar was trying to make you loose your shit. The people weren't letting up and neither were their comments, going from light hearted and flirty to dominant and slightly scary.

Had it always been like this in the bar? People being flat out rude and awful, or had you managed to block it out all this time? Whatever the answer was didn't matter, this was your job and you sure as hell weren't about to crumble from the awful remarks.

"Hey sweetie, how bout you get me another drink," an inebriated bar goer asked, he was at least a little polite, his eyes seemed to linger on your breasts, but at least he didn't attempt to touch them.

You flashed him a fake smile as you began to make him another beer, this was around his seventh one, the alcohol percentage wasn't very high, but you made a mental note to cut him off after he asked for another.

Sliding the drink over to him you made sure to lean just a bit, a tease like that was fairly popular with the guys, you were sure to squeeze a few extra bucks out of the guy.

With a light smile you began to walk over to another drunk, when the shops bell rung, alerting you that someone had entered.

You snapped your head to the door, standing there was none other then the man who you'd been yearning to see for months.

You stopped dead in your tracks as the customers seemed to not notice him, this surprised you as his demanding presence seemed to override you. Maybe that was because his gaze seemed locked on you, even if you couldn't see his face.

He took long strides towards you, his boots making themselves heard, somehow his mask never left your face, it nearly seemed trained on you.

For the first time in months you were terrified of him, terrified of what he could to do you, of what he might say to you. A sharp shiver made its way down your spine as he started to slow his pace. He spun the empty bar stool in his  
direction so he could take a seat, the mask that lay on his face never leaving your form.

His demeanor had changed from laid back and warm to cold and brash, similar to the first time you saw him, but this version was more intimidating by ten fold. His deep, worn out voice seemed horse and dry, he sounded as if he'd been through something, something bad.

"You know what I want."

You responded with a sharp nod, eyes quickly planting on the glass in front of you. Your grip was shaky and unreliable as bullets of panic rang in your ears. You spilled the drink a bit but gave it to him no less, if there was even one more person in the bar you wouldn't of heard his small laugh at your expense.

"Nervous, are we?"

He subtly said, a tinge of confidence lingering in his voice. He took the drink up to his lips as he finally tore his gaze away from you, instead he focused on his drink.

A wave of relief washed over you, allowing your fists to unclench and your features to soften. You relaxed into the counter top behind you, it was getting a bit a late, maybe one or so and people started to head out, but plenty stayed behind, especially the masked man that had taken such a liking to you.

His eyes started to linger over your form once more, if you weren't mistaken you could've sworn he looked you up and down, judging by the slight nod of his head.

"Need something," you muttered, eyes now glued onto his, a surge of confidence somehow rising up.

He chuckled at your change of personality, responding by chugging his drink and sliding the empty glass over to you, his head leaning slightly forward as a signal to refill his glass.

You gave him a sly smile, not exactly intent on letting him catch a peak of anything, but intrigued on the dance of gestures the two of you were entranced in.

It seemed as though the two of you were having a conversation even though words were barely spoken, that didn't mean fear completely left you, jut meant you had calmed a bit.

You looked into his eyes with an emotion neither of you could quite place, all you knew was that he seemed compelled by your intentions.

The smooth liquor poured into the glass, inducing a warm sound emerging from the cup. It seemed as though your senses were amplified in the strange air that lingered between the two of you. All of your fear was gone while his rough demeanor had washed away. 

You hummed into a gentle slide of the drink in his general direction, a soft sentence left your lips while you went through the motions.

"This one is on the house," you said with a light tap on his shoulder, the tips of your fingers lingered a bit, playing with the material of his hoodie.

Truthfully, you'd never been one to tease, flirt, or start anything like this, but your senses seemed to be on fire in his presence, and from what you could tell, it was the same for him.

He seemed to shudder under your touch, his entire body was leaning into yours, yet he used his other hand to take yours off his shoulder.

"Why don't you buy me dinner first, carino" he teased back, a smirk obvious in his words.

A bit surprised at his counter, you went a bit deeper, truthfully curious on the matter.

"How bout I get a name first, reaper," a smirk was clear as day on your face, while he seemed a bit taken aback by your question, he clearly didn't have much of an intention to give it to you.

"I don't exactly give out my name," he chuckled, laughs going between each word, "let's just say I'm trying to, hide, from certain people," he muttered out the last part, obviously trying to make this whole thing look a bit better for him, "but you can call me Reyes," he finished, seeming a bit caught off guard by the whole encounter.

You were a bit surprised that he gave you his name, whether it was because he was a bit inebriated or that there was an undeniable sense of flirtatious smell in the air didn't matter to you, you were flattered nonetheless.

Putting a hand on his, left him confused, but what you said next really knocked his socks off.

"I'm honored you trust me enough, Reyes," a small smile was left on your face after the last part, his hesitation telling you exactly what your words and movements did to him. His lingering hesitation also allowed you to realize that a bit of your top was showing, leaving you partially exposed.

A fierce blush took over your features as you quickly buttoned up your loose shirt, how two buttons managed to come undone was beyond you. 

His eyes lingered over your form as you attempted to regain some modesty, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you became comfortable again.

"S-sorry bout tha-that," you stuttered out, obviously flustered over your lack of care in your upper half.

He only nodded as he tried to distract himself with a large gulp of his liquor, obviously not over the treat to his eyes.

After the two of you cooled down a bit, he spoke up, a bit of sorrow burrowing it's way into his words.

"About all those months ago, sorry, I should've known something would come up," he spoke, slight strain in his voice from talking so much.

You were caught off guard by this, he'd never been one to apologize for something, or even bring up your limited history.

Your features melted at this, your eyes becoming a bit glassy as you felt that you had been selfish, not even thinking about why he hadn't been present in the past months.

Tears pricked in your eyes due to the overwhelming feeling that you were a nuisance, and there was no way he could even reach you, hell, you didn't even give him your number.

"Hey hey hey," he started, standing up from his seat as an arm snaked over the counter to rest on your shoulder, "What's wrong, did I do something?"

His worry only made you feel worse, "no," a sniffle interrupted your response, "no, you didn't do anything, I'm just being stupid."

You muttered out, sniffles often interrupting you as his hand ran circles on your back, the few people that were still present a bit alarmed by your water works.

His hand cupped your cheek as he made his way behind the bar counter top, affectively getting closer to you, still allowing space between the two of you.

"Do you mind," he said with open arms, gesturing for a hug. You quickly melted into him, knocking him off his feet a bit at your sudden movement, too eager to sob on the man that was currently your only source of comfort.

He hummed into the act of affection, a small melody played off his lips as he began to stroke your hair, giving most of the onlookers a cold hearted stare, a stare that made them turn the other way.

Your arms grasped at his sides before gently pushing off of him as you wiped your tears away, intent on continuing your job, or at least closing up.

"Thanks," you muttered out, sniffles surrounding your response to the embrace.

He merely nodded before diving his free hand into his pocket, holding out a generous wad of cash.

"Oh Reyes, I couldn't possibly," he cut you off, "no no no, I owe you, especially after tonight," he referenced a bit earlier when you were much less then modest, "and I tend to be a jerk." He finished, a smile audible in his voice.

You reluctantly took the money, a smile evident on your face. Before he could say his goodbye, you quickly got on the tips of your toes, planting a kiss on the side of his mask, just where his cheek would be.

He completely froze in his place, hesitating greatly before scratching the back of his head while averting his eyes. He laughed a bit at his own embarrassment, causing you to take on a light blush, fidgeting with your hands as you waited for his response.

His hand cupped your cheek, his hesitation made it clear that he wanted to return your gesture, but he held himself back for a reason you didn't know.

"Thanks," he squeaked out, enticing a laugh from you at the sheer embarrassment of the man.

"Of course!" You giggled out, the full force of your emotions evident in your response.

He started to leave with a wave, walking backwards out of the bar while he slipped his hands into his hoodie, clearly happy with how the night played out.

You gave him a light wave back, also in total awe of your own forwardness. Looking around you noticed that practically everyone had left the bar, all of your coworkers clocked out and you were left to close the bar, like usual.

Glancing down at the money Reyes gave you, you noticed some numbers written with permanent marker on one of the bills. 

It took you a second to realize that this was his number, meaning he must've planned to give you this, he couldn't of written it while you were on shift.

A maddening blush took over your face as you danced around in place, squealing at the magnificent night you had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Chapter Notes---  
AAAAAAAA I really like this chapter!! It wasn't really planned out to be this flirty or suggestive but I sorta just started and couldn't stop???? Also because I wanted to get this out really bad I'm just gonna post this without spell checking?? Please correct me in the comments!


	5. Sunken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Chapter Notes---  
(Y/A) is your age, also I imagine the reader to be in their late 20s, it makes it a bit less awkward.

You had been retyping a greeting message to Reyes for the past fifteen minutes.

You'd been wanting to talk to the guy for a while now, it was one of your off days and admittedly, you were pretty lonely.

A dreadful sigh escaped from your mouth as you rolled to your side in bed, wrapping a blanket around you and deleting yet another message you were thinking about sending.

You didn't understand why you found it so hard to just say hello, you've texted people thousands of times, but this just seemed, different, for a lack of a better term.

You faltered at your phone, eyes drawn away from the screen as you thought up another message, at this point anything would suffice.

You settled on a rushed, "Hey, this is (Y/N), the girl from the bar? Sorry it's so late, I'm a bit lonely."

You regretted that last part, but due to it being way past twelve am, you couldn't exactly blame yourself for being so forward. That didn't mean you failed to scream into your pillow from frustration though.

Your eyes begrudgingly made their way back to your phone screen, a frown quickly covering your features as a small text bubble popped up, indicating he was replying.

His response was simple, "oh, the cute one I hear so much about, or the one that flashed me the other night?"

You giggled a bit at this, you didn't know exactly what you expected, but you could guarantee that you were surprised at how flirtatious he was, if you could even call it that.

"I did not flash you, it was, a slip of the hands." You replied, messing with your hair as a wild grin was plastered on your face.

"So," You began, deciding to double text, "I'm not really sure how old you are? I mean, I doubt it matters much, I guess you could say I'm just intrigued."

Truthfully, you were interested in his age, you now knew his last name, and you believed that you were close to seeing his face, what could his age hurt?

"58," he responded blatantly, "You?"

A gasp threatened to escape the back of your throat, you had thought the man to be in his thirties, early forties at oldest, but 58?

You weren't exactly one to judge people solely on age or appearances, this you took pride on. Even though the man's age seemed daunting, you weren't about to pass up someone that seemed absolutely alluring, even if their past was wildly unknown.

"(Y/A), that's how old I am, sorry, I didn't expect that large of an age gap, you definitely seem 30 years younger."

You blushed a bit at what you implied, he really did have a very attractive body. Sure, that hoodie he seemed to wear everywhere did cover up a lot, but when you were within a few feet of him you could tell he was at least a bit toned.

"Wow," he started, he must've been surprised at the age gap as well, "didn't think we were that far apart, not saying you look old or anything, quite the opposite really."

Your face went hot at this, a small giggle leaving you at just how riled up that man could get you, even with little things like that.

"When can I see you again?" You managed to type out, purely from impulse, if you were in any other state of mind you wouldn't have said that, but you couldn't exactly take it back.

The text bubble popped up a few times, then went away, only to return shortly after, almost as if he wasn't quite sure himself, like he was guessing.

He finally rested on, "If I'm being honest, I'm not quite sure, my hours often fluctuate heavily. If you know what I mean."

You really didn't know what he meant. You didn't have one clue, what kind of job did this guy have? 

Suspicions of him being a probable murder were put to rest at the realization of what a good guy he seemed to be. 

Drug dealer popped up in your mind too many times to count, but he didn't seem to be on that side of the tracks.

Maybe he worked at a cemetery? No, no, now that's just wishful thinking.

Whatever he did you were sure wasn't good, he seems hardened, if you could see his face it would probably look worn in, his eyes might be glazed and his lips chapped.

His voice was gruff and seemed tired, while his personality was lively and amusing, even if there was an unspoken swirl of sadness or even fear that just couldn't be washed away.

The fact that you were warming up to him put your morales into question, would you really consider being with someone you knew next to nothing about?

A notification snapped you out of your thoughts, it was a text from Reyes, reading it over sent you into maddening blush.

"Can I come over?"

\---

Scrambling to clean up your house in a frenzy at one am wasn't exactly how you planned your evening.

Ever since Reyes asked to come over you immediately went into cleaning mode, especially since you accepted his offer, being quick to send him your address. You had started with the living room, seeping into the kitchen, tidying up your bathroom, and you even debated your own room.

Would the two of you really be going in there? The mere thought of it made your stomach flip and your lips dry. Reyes made you go wild, both mentally, and certainly physically. You didn't know what it was about him, maybe the way he spoke, or even his body language, whatever it was you knew you couldn't get enough.

In the end you gave in to your temptations, if you did end up coming into the room you'd at least want it to look presentable. Picking up scattered clothes and fixing some stray pillows your eyes landed on a little pink box that you had gotten a bit over a week ago.

Your cheeks darkened a bit as you averted your gaze, you had been, _in the mood, _at the time and decided to go check out a local lingerie store where you found something you quite liked.

In the box was a pair of white lacy underwear accompanied by a pair of white, semi transparent, stockings topped off with sleek garters.

Would you really put those on? What if it went well? You could already imagine him slipping off your hoodie to expose your lacy undergarments, a low growl emerging from his throat as he let out a lustful whisper in your ear, "oh, you put this on for me?"

I mean, sure, it would boost your confidence by about ten notches, but he would certainly see your stockings due to your plan of wearing shorts. And if he did find out without wanting to go through with anything, would he not want to talk to you anymore?

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts, a streak of insecurity flew through you and you quickly buried the box underneath your bed, mind attempting to erase even thinking about the idea.

You somehow finished cleaning your house in time, having just a few minutes to throw on a large hoodie and a pair of pajama shorts.

Your time fluffing the pillows and picking out your best wine was interrupted by a knock at the door and the buzz of your phone. He must've texted you to let you know he was there. Glancing down at your shorts and adjusting them left you with a quickened heart rate, you had been anticipating this for a little under an hour, and the suspense was killing you.

Briskly walking up to the door, you got onto the tips of your toes in order to look through the peep hole to make sure it was Reyes on the other side of the door.

And boy were you taken aback. He wore a long black leather cloak with large metal greaves, his arms were adorned with sharp metal claws attached to arm guards. You really hadn't understood the mask until now, it really did fit into his, _uniform?_

You decided to unlock the door, your heart was beating furiously, whether it was from anticipation or from fear due to his strange outfit and his intentions with it, you didn't know.

Opening the door to his large, imposing form, you scanned it quickly and attempted to hold back a snicker when he instantly straightened out, as his hands were quickly thrown behind his back, body language speaking volumes of his shame and insecurity when it came to his harshly intimidating claws.

"You look, interesting," you breathed out, attempting to conceal a laugh.

He chuckled nervously at your comment, responding with a witty nod, "and so do you," he started, a single claw trailing the hem of your right, relatively exposed, thigh, sending a chill down your spine, "expecting someone?" he asked, confidence already peaking within the minute.

You bit your lip at this as you averted your gaze, a small blush was easily dusted onto your cheeks. You stepped aside, arm unfolding to gesture to your home, inviting the man in, eager to see where the night would take the two of you.

He quietly thanked you and looked around your place, he whistled at your setup, seemingly impressed on the cleanliness of the home.

"You cleaned up for me?" He questioned, his sincerity finally showing that he seemed lightly inebriated, no wonder he was so forward.

You gave him a curt nod, easily getting a quick, and genuine response from him, "You didn't have to do all this for me."

You giggled at his comment, quickly scampering off to your coffee table that held assorted remotes and controllers, picking out the one for the T.V. as your hand casually gestured for the couch.

"Make yourself comfortable, if you'd like you can look for a movie for us to watch."

He nodded at your suggestion, taking a well earned seat on the corner of the couch, leaning back into its enveloping cushions.

"Mind if I take my shoes off and all this-," he started, resisting a small laugh, "-junk? It can get a little heavy."

"Of course!" You quickly responded from the kitchen as you prepared some snacks and wine, "oh, and before I forget, do you care for red wine? I just got a wonderful bottle the other day."

"Sounds great," he responded, clearly sounding relaxed and grateful.

You noted the way his body language shifted once he walked into your home. He seemed nervous, tired, and even stressed at first, but a few glances at his relaxed form told you all you needed to know.

Turning around and seeing the sight before you nearly knocked you off your feet, the tray you were holding became shaky in your uncertain hands.

Reyes had taken off his cloak, shoes, and close to everything else. He was merely wearing a skin tight white tank top with black, dare you say, booty shorts, not that you were complaining.

Not to mention his hair looked absolutely gorgeous, it's texture was slightly wavy with hints of grey peppered in, the sides were shaved while the longer part on top dropped down onto his mask, slightly covering it.

His skin was just how you imagined it, a bit scarred and faded, you wouldn't ask why his skin looked a bit grey or how he got those scars, in truth, you found it quite attractive.

He glanced over to you when you didn't move for an extended period of time, a bit of a laugh muffled behind his mask. He gestured to the spot next to him, right next to him, close enough to where you could cuddle. Much more intimate then you originally intended for the night to go, never mind the overly short shorts you were wearing.

Making your way over you set the tray on the coffee table, sitting down flush next to Reyes, your hand resting on his chest. His arm wrapped around your shoulder as he slightly pulled you into him, prompting you to snuggle into the crook of his arm.

The two of you were beyond ecstatic, and not very surprisingly, flustered. You weren't one to ever be very intimate with people in such a causal setting, sure, you had cuddled, held hands, had sex, all of the usual couple things. But you only really ever did it in an established relationship, and even then you didn't show intimacy much.

Funnily enough, Reyes seemed to be in the same boat.

You giggled a bit, "you know, I never thought I'd be snuggling up to someone I just met," you spoke, your voice a bit quiet.

"Just met?" He chuckled out, "I could've sworn we met a few months ago, which doesn't really sound like _just met._" He teased.

"You know what I mean," you said smiling up at him, giving him playful punch on the shoulder.

Both of you eventually became comfortable, allowing you to snuggle into his embrace as you found a movie to watch.

You sighed into Reyes' touch, his fingers had been caressing your thigh for a while now, they seemed to dance on the hem of your shorts, almost like he wanted to see them in action.

His gaze was locked onto the tv screen while his hands had a precise aura to them, like he could see what he was doing, even as his eyes were glued to the screen. However, your eyes belonged only to him, and by the sound of his sigh while he watched you in his peripherals, he seemed to enjoy it.

Your hand snaked onto his inner thigh, earning a sharp intake of breath accompanied by a small tension in his muscles, making it obvious he enjoyed the small touches.

Before you could go any further his breath hitched while a hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, immediately stopping the action.

"I don't think this is a very good idea," he breathed, his breath was blatantly ragged, even if the stimulus was light.

You gave him a hesitant nod, already feeling guilt pool in your stomach by the thought that  
you crossed the line, well, more then you already had.

"Hey," he started, quickly getting your attention, "don't get me wrong, I liked that, _really _liked that, but I just don't think nows a good time." He gestured to the half empty wine bottle to the left of you, "we're both under the influence, and I wouldn't want to take advantage of you."

A fierce red covered your face at his implications, it was obvious by the warmth between your legs and his slightly labored breathing that you both wanted each other.

Yet the rational side of you knew that it wouldn't be a good idea right now, especially when you were just getting to know him, and when you had a few glasses of alcohol in you.

You glanced up at his face, getting greeted with the white pearly mask and alluring hair that lay atop his head.

A smirk crossed your features as an idea popped into your mind. Without a moment too soon you plopped a small, yet meaningful, kiss right on the cheek of his mask. Sure, you'd just adore to kiss his actual face, but this was just the same, if not better, in terms of teasing that is.

He froze in place for just a second, before reaching two fingers where you planted your lips on his mask. He chuckled a bit before bursting out into a scarily contagious laughter, clearly influenced by both the alcohol, and your sudden snippet of affection.

You started to giggle at how happy he was, really realizing that he truly enjoyed whatever you did, and furthermore how much of a complete dork he could be, especially when it came to romance.

He started to quiet down after a minute or two, giving out a large sigh after his continuous laughter. He turned to you, and just before he could speak up, you interjected, "you really are something, you know that, right, Reyes?"

He tilted his head a bit, a happy feeling nearly radiating off of him. "And so are you, _cariño_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Chapter Notes---  
sorta hated this chapter, next one is gonna be spicy as hell though so get ready for that.


	6. Shine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Chapter Notes---  
Disclaimer?? This chapter has a TON of head cannons in it, if this is too confusing or if I get enough people commenting for an explanation, I may just make an entire separate chapter explaining what I think of Reaper, and his relation to reader. It may have a few spoilers if I do write it, though.

The weeks following your close encounter with Reyes proved to be plain and boring, regular run of the mill customers were the only people you had seen, as of late.

Most of your long night shifts were spent wiping down table tops, telling off the occasional bar fight, and drunken bar goers attempting to flirt with you, all of which you quickly dismissed. It's not like any of them could even hope to compare to Reyes.

Oh god how you longed to see the guy. He left shortly after you proclaimed you were tired, saying something along the lines of, "wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." Like that was even possible.

You sighed at the slower then average night, sure, it was a Monday, but you expected at least a few people to be in the humble bar, instead, they had all left a little over an hour ago. Most likely to return to their families, or be well enough to arrive to work the following day.

It's not like you could do anything about your overwhelming boredom anyway, the counter and tables had been sufficiently sanitized, floor mopped, windows wiped, hell, you had even shined the glasses a dozen times over.

Just when you debated turning in early the entrance door slammed open, your head snapping to attention, a weak, stumbling Reyes just barely managing to walk in.

A gasp escaped you at the sight of his state, he had deep, black, oozing bile seeping out of his armored outfit and mask that you had seen previously.

You didn't waste a second to rush to his aide, helping to hold up his partially limp hulking body, your arm just at the pit of his.

At your now close proximity you could hear just how labored his breathing was, how his breath hitched often, and just how much blood, if you could even call it that, he was losing.

"Jesus Reyes, what the hell happened?" You nearly yelled out, glad that all the customers had already left.

"It's a funny," he cut himself off with brutal coughing, allowing the black tar to escape his mask, "st- story, really,"

You nearly sobbed right then and there, it was abundantly clear that something was clearly wrong, that whatever he, worked for, had ended up ugly.

"Let's just get you to a table, ok?" You muttered out, voice cracking with every other word, tears threatening to fall at any moment.

He managed out a nod, a nearly intoxicated laugh emerging from him, only continuing the somber mood.

Pulling out a worn, wooden chair sitting at one of the tables, you sat him into it, allowing a pained grunt to escape him. You winced at this, but quickly sat on a seat just in front of him, your hand gripping his with fear.

"What can I do for you, Reyes?" You asked, clearing you throat as to not have any cracks in your voice.

He turned his head to you, his chest rising and falling at a slightly accelerated pace, "you don't have any medical experience, do you," he stated, already knowing the answer. You shook your head at his raspy voice, a barely noticeable tremble in your lip.

"Well," he chuckled, "I've been hit with a bullet, I'll walk you through the steps to get it out." he gripped your hand with a pleading tone, "please, don't be scared, I need to take my mask off a bit." He spoke, breathing deeply between every other word.

You hesitated, why would you be scared? It's not like you'd see something you'd regret, right?

You nodded, with a small, "yes." truthfully you'd never thought you'd even catch a peak on what was behind that mask, but you didn't quite care about that.

His shaky hand reached for his mask, slightly adjusting it so a part of his cheeks, and all of his mouth could be seen. You were immediately taken aback by the sight, his cheeks were rotting from the inside out, showing off abnormally pointed teeth.

His lips were plump and not damaged, all of his skin seemed to be a bit grey, the numerous scars scattering him carrying even less color.

"Oh my god," you mumbled, your face a shade lighter then before. "I know," he said solemnly, his voice much clearer and raspier without the mask muffling it.

Your hands trembled in his, but you knew he was doing much worse then you, so with all of your might, you managed to swallow your fear, you could talk to him about this later.

"So," you started, voice shaking, "what should I do first?"

His mouth slightly parted to show off a few abnormally sharp teeth, the sides of his mouth upturning to form a weak smile. "Thank you," he began, heavy breathing diluting his words, "you'll need to sanitize the wound first."

He lifted his armored torso and cloak to reveal his defined mid section freckled with scars. The skin was slightly grey, similar to the skin on his face and hands, but the area around the wound was stained a deep dark red, a shade off from the black he vomited before.

You mentally winced at his injury, it seemed deep, not enough to hit bone, but enough to hurt like hell, or enough for the bullet to be slightly covered by surrounding muscle.

"Ok, I'm gonna start, this may hurt a bit," you said, awaiting his answer.

"Nothing I'm not used to," he said with a small, slightly forced smile.

With a hesitant hand, you reached into the first aid kit and pulled out a sanitary wipe before gingerly patting down the gashed area, enticing a small wince from the large man.

You pushed through, successfully cleaning the lightly dried blood on his torso.

"Good job," he glanced down to look at your amateur job, "now, go ahead and grab something to pull it out."

"Wait, remove it? Won't that make the bleeding worse?" His slightly parted lips turned into a slightly disgruntled line, obviously holding something back. "I'll tell you later, you just need to trust me," he breathed out, seeming a bit worse than before, prompting you to listen to the man intently.

You grabbed a pair of gloves and slid them on along with forceps, look up to where you assumed his eyes would be in almost a pleading manner, "this is gonna hurt, I've obviously never done this before," you said, hands and voice shaking with worry.

He gave you only a simple nod in return, giving you the "go ahead" for you to continue.

With a less than sure pair of forceps, you began your attempts in removing the bullet, finally getting a good hold on it after a bit of fumbling. you exhaled deeply, glancing up at Reyes that strangely seemed to be doing a lot better than previously expected. He almost seemed like he was blocking out what was happening to him, but by the looks of his scars, it became clear that he had to do that quite often.

You steadied your grip on the forceps, and with one, quick motion as to not cause any unwanted damage, removed the bullet lodged in his abdomen. You put down the bloodied medical tools with vigor, only to pickup a needle and surgical thread to patch up the stoic man.

Your plans quickly changed when the skin seemed to be doing the work for you, of course the blood that had spilled when pulling out the bullet still lay flat against him, but his body was quickly regenerating by itself, much unlike anything else you've ever heard heard of, much less seen.

You gasped at what had just happened before you, while Reyes seemed to be completely fine with what was happening to him, only sending you into a deeper fit of utter confusion. 

"Reyes," your voice shook, "you really need to tell me whats going on."

He sighed, seeming tired of explanations already, it probably wasn't easy for him to comprehend either. He began scratching at his beard that helped to conceal his rotting cheeks, that amazingly enough, started to heal themselves with returning flesh.

You'd be lying to yourself if you said that this was much of a surprise after what happened to his wound.

Exhaling deeply, he began his explanation, "you see, I was in the military, and never really got out of it. One thing led to another and eventually," he trailed off for a second before gesturing to his strange qualities, "this happened."

You were amazed at what Reyes was, even though you barely knew the details of what was really happening. Even when you were downright terrified of what lay before you, only accentuated by your racing heart beat, a tinge of sadness rested deeply in your heart. By his obviously defeated posture and somber mood, it became clear to you that he probably didn't like this side of himself either.

You put a hand on his shoulder, which he seemed a bit surprised by, and attempted to comfort him, "Reyes, this changes a lot. But it doesn't change how I feel about you."

His somber face turned to a small smile, before turning back down into a frown once again. "You really shouldn't be around be, I'm practically a monster." he sneered, showing off a row of sharp teeth, enticing a gasp from you with the withdrawal of your hand.

He exhaled deeply at this, averting his gaze before adjusting his mask to cover his face once more. Standing up, Reyes began to pull on his armor, before striding to the door to leave.

"Reyes? Where are you going?"

He stopped for a moment, looking over his shoulder only to see your broken expression, "You'll be much better off with me gone, please, take care."

His entire being turned into a thick, black smog that slipped under the door of the bar, making your heart drop into your stomach.

Maybe you really would be better off without him.


	7. Cardinal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to make longer chapters, but I felt that making this any longer would just drag it on. Hope it reads ok!

Reapers POV

"Why did I have to be so stupid!" the absolutely enraged man exclaimed, punching a hole straight through his room's wall, cementing its place just near the dozens around it.

He swept a blackened smoking hand through his hair, he had lost his composure, Moira said that this would happen eventually, that this would happen, with you.He couldn't stand the thought of hurting you in anyway, in hurting you again. He'd already done it when he pushed you away, and again when he nearly choked you out. Why couldn't he control himself, what was wrong with him?

He felt anger pulsate through him again, but before he could act on it, his door creaked open, turning his attention to the woman who walked through it.

"Moira," he instantly recognized the ghastly arm and striking red hair, "Gabriel," she imitated him, giving him a near disgusted look up and down, before going stone cold once again.

"why don't you look more," she gestured to his unclothed upper body, "presentable."

He grunted at her nagging tone, she always seemed to find something wrong with him, his temper, the way he dressed, and a million other things that wouldn't even take her a second to name. He used to enjoy the now cold woman’s presence, she used to be kind, warm even, what happened to that

"Anyway, I'm sure you know about that formal Talon meetup tonight? It's been organized especially for one of your latest victories." She nearly scoffed at the last part, obviously not thinking much of whatever the man had worked hard for.

"Of course I remembered," he growled, looking over at one of his best suits he had laid out the night previous, "I've been working towards this for months."

She gave him a look that suggested otherwise, and truthfully, the soft spot she once had for Gabriel died out, instead a deeper, darker emotion was held for him. She would never admit that she had turned him into something vile, yet she knew what she had done deep down.

Turning to make her leave, she slipped through the door, before turning her gaze over her shoulder to tell the man one last thing, "Oh, and before I go Gabriel, don't you dare go visit your little pet again, you know what'll happen to her if you do," she glanced at the numerous holes in the wall, "you can hardly control yourself as it is." 

Gabriel nearly yelled at her, his arms turning into a thick black smoke as she left, accompanied by his cheeks rotting out, he threw yet another punch into the wall, sending bits of wooden shrapnel into his hand and room.

Your POV

You had seldom left your house for anything other than groceries or work for the week since Reyes had left you, for a time that he nearly implied to be forever. You just didn't know if you could take it. Ever since you first met the man you knew something was different about him, something that you just adored, but now that you knew he hid something much deeper from you made you nauseous.

A day or two after he left you worked up the nerve to search up his nickname that he had originally given you. You hadn't done it before as to not invade his privacy or even be a stalker, but since he had said his goodbyes, you didn't quite see a reason not to. 

What you found left you shocked, you saw news article after news article showing off flashy pictures of the "costume" you had seen him wearing previously. Declaring him to be a "murderer", a "terrorist", and a dozen other names you didn't care to recall.

He seemed so sweet, so nice, so caring. How could he kill people? 

You began to note the sharp razor like claws on each finger, or the stench of death that seemed to follow him everywhere he went, the deep, red glowing glint in his eyes. This didn't help to make him look anymore innocent, it only cemented the fact in your mind of what he had done.

Every time you thought back on what you had found out about him left you shaking, a hitch in your breath and a few tears threatening to fall. It was a terrible loop to fall into, you would long for him, then criticize yourself for doing so. 

How could you take any kind of interest in an awful man like that? How come he showed you so much kindness? Why did he nearly seem ashamed at what he really was?

Your heart broke at every question you asked yourself. You were angry at him for doing such horrid things, and angry at yourself for not seeing the signs sooner, for letting yourself fall into some kind of infatuation with him. He was so charismatic, so intriguing, was it all just a facade for you to trust him? Would he do something to you once you did? 

The bar was some kind of crude escape for you, on one hand, it would always remind you of him, and on the other, it would let you forget any of it ever happened. You didn't know which one you preferred.

Nearly loving the man gave you a cruel sense of comfort. You’d never much liked the simple life you had, you were in your late twenties, stuck in a dead end job, and never really had any interesting romantic relationships. You nearly craved something like Reaper’s life, something exciting, in a morbid way.

You realized early on that you could never bring yourself to murder, doing it for the right reasons was an entirely different coversation all together. All you knew was you hated where life had left you.

When you were young you craved for adventure, something bigger than yourself, that hope and ambition died out when you began living on your own, you became more rational, more set in your own ways, some would even call you boring.

You loathed the new you that you had become. It pained you to sit and do nothing twenty four seven, seven days a week.

Your hand hovered over your phone next to you, you had been killing yourself over whether or not you should call him, or even shoot him a text. A part of you despised the very thought, and the other had been egging you on ever since he left that damn bar. You gave in for just a moment, but a glance back at the news articles still pulled up on your laptop told you all you needed to know.

A sob hitched out of your throat, and a scream of sorrow threatened to leave your lips.

-

You jolted awake with a start, head turning rapidly as everything was left in it’s place before you fell asleep. The breath you didn’t know you had been holding left you, before you violently gasped at a sharp sound to the right of you.

A Large, hulking figure drenched in shadow stood proud a few mere feet away from your bed. A somber mood filled the room, and a glint of moonlight illuminated the body for just long enough for a gleaming red eye to be seen.

The all too familiar smell of death wafted into your nose as the man you quickly identified as reaper began walking towards you.

“What are you doing here!” you demanded rather than questioned, “I thought you said you were leaving!”   
You edged further away from him as he made heavy strides towards you, heart beating a million miles a minute.

The moonlight now fully shown on him, accentuating his pearly white mask, penetrating milky red gaze, and sharp, gleaming, silver claws. He lifted a hand to cup your cheek, his claws slightly grazing your skin, yet old blood already dripped onto your bare face, causing a shiver to run down your spine at the sudden contact.

He breathed in deeply, a grumble resonating in his chest before sighing heavily, his red stare calming into a serene crimson. 

“You really do look beautiful in the moonlight, cariño,” he purred, and strangely enough, didn’t sound intoxicated in the slightest, he rather seemed dismal, even mournful in a twisted way.

Your shaky hand enveloped his as you rested your face into his hold, was this what you craved? What you had longed for?

“I miss you,” you hummed, voice a bit croaky from your sleep.

He sighed in response, “I know you do.”

You blinked up at him, admiring his swirling wine red eyes. You reached a hand up at his mask that he lightly flinched at before giving into your touch. 

Fingers grasping the mask, you moved it a bit, not much, but just enough to see his mouth.

You pressed your lips onto his with a sense of passion you hadn’t felt in sometime, which Reyes quickly returned. Your hand searched into his hoodie to grab onto a chunk of his salt and peppered hair, enticing a small groan from the large man.

Roaming hands found your hips, razor sharp claws poking into your sides when he broke the kiss.

“We can’t do this,” he pushed slightly away from you, hand adjusting his mask back into place.

“Why?” you pleaded, “If you feel the same way, why can’t it happen?”

“You know why,” he replied, voice low and somber, eyes drawn to the ground.

You rubbed your eyes, a mix of anger, pain, and regret bubbling inside you.

“Just go,” you muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

He emitted a knowing sigh, followed by a gust of wind that blew past your body, and when you looked to see him one last time, he was gone.

You knew you didn’t love him, but damn, did it hurt like you did.


	8. Broken

What the hell were you doing with your life.

No, really, what the fuck were you doing. Wasting your fleeting youth in some run down bar with a less than meager pay check? Why weren't you doing something more exciting? Something more worthwhile than moping around your house because of a man too coward to stay.

Why weren't you doing what you wanted to do your whole life? When you were young adventure was the only thing on your mind, living was the only thing on your mind.

Now you only thought about how to make ends meet and what you would eat for dinner, a sad one eighty life spin for sure.

You were rebellious in your youth, often shoplifting what would often add up to hundreds of dollars of makeup, snacks, and electronics. Whatever happened to that, that sheer, revolting will to be a complete asshole, and do whatever the hell you wanted, when you wanted. When did you start caring about people's opinions?

Your anger threw itself into a flying punch in the face of your punching bag. The bandages on your hands gnarled with sweat making harsh contact with the sandbag, knocking it into a recoil.

"Jesus fuck," your friend feigned, "watch out there, wouldn't want to kill me now."

You let out a sharp exhale at this, you shouldn't be taking your anger out physically when your friend is behind the bag.

"Sorry, got all caught up in my-" "thoughts?" They interrupted, "I could tell, you made it painfully obvious," raising their eyebrows to poke fun at you.

You scratched the back of your neck as you pretended to look off into the gym, rather thinking about where your life would take you, and what path you would take.

"I've just been pissed lately," your eyebrow knotted, just thinking about Reyes got you fired up, especially since he ditched you so unexpectedly.

Your friend sighed, slightly adjusting their ballcap before landing a hand on your shoulder, "you know, whatever's troubling you won't last forever. Sooner or later things will start to look up, and if you need a change, you should change it."

\---

Your fist slammed into a mans jaw, a loud crack and scream coming from him just a second after, hands holding the fractured bones. 

Loud, ragged huffs came from you, your chest rising and falling with such fervor as your customers watched in awe, jaws lack and amazed at your display.

A few minutes before this debacle happened, the man walked into the bar half drunk, and armed. Quick thinking and an appetite for action saved a coworker and a few innocent people.

Thoughts hurriedly raced through your head, what did you just do?? You would almost surely be fired for this, you hurt a customer, badly! What would your boss think, what-

"Y/N!" your coworker nearly yelled, hand shaking your shoulder, a few tears and a small smile at their lips. 

Before you could greet them, they tightly embraced you, hands shaking as they cried into your shoulder. You did punch the guy square in the face that threatened their life, after all.

\---

"You, WHAT?!?" your friend yelled into their phone, instantly making you wince and pull your phone from your ear.

"Uh, yeah," you began with a shaky voice nestling the phone between your shoulder and face as you drove, "(Y/N), I, I knew you were stupid but this!?!" your friend laughed, sarcasm and anxiety dripping from their tone.

You frowned, just now realizing you broke a mans jaw. You wouldn't be prosecuted or even go to court, the police understood and frankly didn't care enough to take you in.

"You're so fucking lucky the cops don't care, hell, lucky your boss doesn't care either," your friend had always been a caring type, someone to guide you, they sighed, "I can't always take care of you, y/n, I'm moving on Monday."

Your heart stopped in your chest at the abrupt news, "WHAT?" your phone slipped, and you fumbled to put it back in place, a small scowl already forming on your features, "why didn't you tell me?" you asked, your voice breaking slightly.

They laughed, albeit somberly, "I knew you'd react like this," you frowned, eyebrows knitting together, "I love you, and I always will, but I just got a job offer on the other side of the country, it will pay twice as much and-"

"Go for it," your voice shook and your eyes stung, but a weak smile was on your lips, "You'll be better off there, I can tell."

They giggled, already seeming happier by your response. You'd miss em to hell and back, but you knew that they needed this job, and they needed to be out of the shithole town you called home.

"Thank you," they said, bad reception making them buzz and crackle, "for being there for me, I'll miss you so, so much."

You repressed a sigh, "Of course. I'll always have your back."

\---

A groan rumbled from your core as you stared into the eyes of a gang of men, all of them seemingly trained at some point, while you, you were not.

They had just nearly beaten the shit out of you for "looking at them worng" or some other bogus reason. The pettiness of men nowadays really got you riled up, no, that man got you riled up.

You made a sound that could only be interpreted as a growl, your eyes narrowing in on one of the three men that had assaulted you.

You stood, your fist flying to reach one of their sides, when their hand caught yours, their voice low, and raspy, "Do you really wanna fight, little girl?"

Your anger nearly did flips in your stomach, but you repressed it as you so often did, "Yes," you began, seeing the others brace themselves a bit, "but I won't, I don't wanna see stars after just a punch or two."

He let go of your hand, dusting himself off, "You guys are obviously better than me," you gestured, "I'm just, angry."

The man who blocked you's glare softened, and his shoulders slumped in a sigh, "I've been there myself, getting pissed over menial things, overreacting."

The two others nodded, faces showing it all, "But then we started, uhh," he obviously hesitated, hand scratching his neck, "actually, i don't think i should tell you."

You made a face, "Then why even bring it up? I've seen some shit if that's what you're worried about, I didn't wake up yesterday."

"I," he sighed, "We know, its just-" he cut himself off, "you know what, fuck it."

He sat down on the disgusting floor, urging you and the others to do the same, which you reluctantly agreed to, at least you were in an alley way.

"We're all hitmen." You squinted at them, unsure if they were telling the truth.

He handed you a card with a short grumble, "Here."

"You have a hitman business card?" you said, failing to suppress a laugh.

The three of them were in a small picture on the upper right hand corner of the card, all doing thumbs up with the catchphrase, "you got the money, we got the honey!"

"This makes you sound like beekeepers," you smirked, looking at all of them, "you know that right?"

"No it!-" he cut himself off, pinching the arch of his brow bone, "It got printed wrong," he gestured.

"Sure," you stifled a laugh, handing the card back over to him.

"We only have it so we don't have to talk about it verbally," he glared at you, "guess that doesn't apply here, though."

You looked straight back at him, a thought popping into your head, "Oh yea!" you pointed, "is there something you wanted to tell me orrr-" you trailed off.

The man looked at the other two before looking back at you, nodding, "Yes, you said you had anger issues, right?"

You thought about the question for a second, did you really have anger issues? And if you did, would you really listen to whatever advice this guy was about to give you? He was a criminal, he killed people, your heart stopped, you were about to fight him, with no hesitation, and you broke somebodys jaw that day as well. Did you actually have issues?

You looked up to man, stare telling him everything he needed to know.

"You can do what we did, train, fight, kill." 

You attempted to calm your racing heart.

"I wouldn't mind referring you to the people who helped us," he paused, "as long as you don't rat us out."

You felt your stomach flip, and raise into your throat. If you told anyone about tonight, you'd almost surely be killed, the muscles and numerous tattoos told you so.

"I'll do it," you said with little hesitation, the man in front of you's eyebrows raising a bit, his eyes going a bit wide as he smirked.

"Didn't think you had the gull for a minute there," he shot his arm out in front of him as a sign he wanted to shake, "I'll give you my card and we can discuss the details later."

You shook his hand with a decent grip, eyes following him, and his buddies every move.


	9. Masked

"Again!" Your new instructor barked, eyes worn in and tired, he seemed to already be sick of your grossly amateur form, even though you had just started today.

Not long after your encounter with the small group of men, you had decided to take them up on the offer of growing stronger, even if it was for a terribly malicious reason. You so deeply craved something bigger than yourself, even if that meant, killing, people. They told you it made a ludicrous amount of money, and if so, it was just a little bit closer to being worth it.

You grunted into yet another swing of your arm that flew into the side of a punching bag. The wrap on your hand skidding along the side, it was decent punch, but it could definitely be improved upon, and your instructor made sure you knew.

"No no no no, your form is all wrong!" he exasperated, hands making wild gestures as he quickly walked over to you, readjusting your form.

"Your stance should be wide, a bit lower," he moved your shoulders a bit, so your head was now down slightly, "and your other arm should be bent."

He straightened your form out, and told you to try again.

Doing as you were told, you flew another punch into the bag, the added confidence of your crafted pose nearly knocked the bag off the old chain, making it swing harshly.

"That was almost good," The man said, a smirk laying on his features, telling you that he was happy in your progress.

You smiled at him before resuming the exercise, brow knotted in your new found capabilities.

\---

You winced as you peeled the wraps off of your hands, you'd waited until you got home to take them off in attempts of delaying the pain as much as humanely possible. The pain source mainly coming from fatigued muscles, calloused palms, and slightly bloodied knuckles. You'd need to wrap better next time.

The day was pretty eventful in terms of your normal routine. You had to run god knows how many laps around a track, lift all kinds of different weights, different muscle building exercises, and of course, how to properly box.

Your instructor thought it would be best for you to learn how to physically exert yourself, your limits, and how to defend yourself before you became trained in any sort of real weapon. You agreed for the most part, as when you wouldn't have a weapon, you'd of course have yourself.

Slumping onto your couch, you decided to turn on the tv, you didn't exactly have much to do, and your mind was much too active to even think about sleeping, so instead of letting your mind wander, you'd rather let it rot with television.

All of your pain, all of your rage, nearly felt erased with todays exercises, of course you didn't forget it, and you weren't completely calmed, but the stirring of negative emotions felt, a little more bearable

You sighed in an act of contentment, you felt somewhat freed, in a weird way. You'd definitely be going back for more training before work started so you could destress, and to get stronger, of course.

Truthfully, you still hadn't really come to terms with the whole, killing people thing, yet, but then again you weren't the most up to date in the worlds politics, hell, you hadn't even known who, reaper, was until you searched him up.

You huffed into a sip of water from your bottle, you hated the thought of taking innocent lives, but you hated being complacent, weak, and useless even more. The fact Reyes so easily left you only amplified this. You almost wanted to show off to him once you became strong, when you were finally capable.

After dwelling in your thoughts for far too long, you decided to go to bed and sleep on everything you learned, but you also went to bed so you could stop thinking about the man you loved to be around. You wondered if he thought about you just as much as you thought about him, you winced, thinking it was a stupid idea.

\---

Reapers POV

Reyes sighed, eyes boring into the ceiling above him as he lay awake in his cot, mind restless from overwhelming thoughts. Every night, without fail, he would think back to you, whether it be out of guilt, longing, or some other emotion he couldn't quite place.

He never really wanted to leave you, but Moira, made him when he began to deteriorate from a fight. Whenever he became too emotional, or when he was hurt, his body would always struggle to hold onto his form, making him rot out from the inside.

Gabriel would never admit that he had began to loathe talon. He originally joined out of spite for overwatch, out of spite for Jack. But all of that pain had been slowly subsiding, he had even began to try and forgive Jack for all he had done, which was something he thought he would never do. 

Talon was originally some kind of sick and twisted escape, something to keep his mind off of everything that was destroying him, but Talon had started to destroy him too, and he knew it was time to heal.

He turned in his sheets, crimson eyes drawn to his open window, the moonlight shining into his room, accentuating the emptiness he felt in his core, the shining light reminding him of that night. No matter how much furniture, possessions, or partners he had, he could never feel whole in his day to day life, not even for a minute.

All he wanted in that moment was some kind of comfort, something to keep him grounded, and subsequently, you.

\---

Your POV, ya turd

You sighed into a pass of alcohol to another patron, and a worried glance was shot your way. Ever since you broke the assaulter's jaw, people had begun to avoid you, to some extent. You didn't particularly mind as long as you could do your job, but you didn't exactly like the title of being an aggressive person, as ironic as that is.

You groaned into your hands, ever since training had started, and Reyes ditched you, going to the bar had become plain, and boring. No matter what conversations you had, or what kind of liquor you drank, you'd always be reminded of better times, whether it be training, or hanging out with Reyes.

As another customer waved you down for a drink, you tried with fruitless efforts to pull yourself out of your thoughts, but even the warm whiskey in front of you kept you trapped in your own mind.

"How ya holding up, (Y/N)?" a coworker said, a hand placed on your shoulder.

"Huh? oh-" you stuttered, a bit startled, "fine, I've been learning how to box so i can de-stress."

You stiffened at your confession, you were allowed to talk about training, but you had to be careful as to not reveal your true intentions, lest you get caught.

"That sounds good," they beamed at you, hair falling into their face, "And thanks, for what you did the other day."

They laughed, "it really saved my ass."

You returned a weak smile, your eyes feeling tired and hollow. You still felt guilty for breaking his jaw, how you were supposed to actually fucking kill people was beyond you, could you really go through with it?

A snap shook you from your thoughts, "Hey, you ok?"

Your eyes widened, and you gave them a curt nod before returning to tending to customers. You saw them grimace in your peripheral vision, but your heart couldn't take the pain of confronting your emotions, and therefore some trauma.

At least not yet.


	10. Beating

You groaned as you awoke from your slumber, every single muscle felt sore, and your brow knitted to reflect this less than great state of body. Whenever you'd exercise in the past, you never felt this sore, it must've been from the proper technique, and numerous workouts you had done.

Letting your mind wander for just a moment was a swift mistake, and a frown was placed onto your features. Reyes was one of your only, "friends," if you could even call him that, besides your best friend, the one who had just moved away. You didn't know why you didn't have many friends, were you just too hard to love? Too hard to care about?

You never had many friends, in both your youth and currently. You'd like to say you didn't care, but it pained you to be so lonely, so isolated. The bar would fight off those pesky feelings, but they would always inch back into your heart, slowly but surely. You hoped your new instructor would be something that could just, maybe, fill the hole in your heart left by the man who you longed for. 

With a quick motion you stood from your bed, eyebrows knitting in a confidence to no longer push yourself down with your racing thoughts, instead, you decided to get an early start by heading to your new instructor. Secretly hoping you could vent your toxic thoughts through exercise.

Your jelly feeling legs led you into your kitchen, lazily opening the fridge you brought out a gallon of milk, and a few strawberries. You thought some cereal and fruit would be a good start to the day, as you usually only had an apple and some fast food for breakfast, this was a considerable step up.

You lazily poured your bowl of corn flakes and cut up strawberries into your bowl, pouring some milk in just after. Yawning into a big bite of breakfast, you checked the time, noting you had ample time to head over to your training session for the day. Unsurprisingly, you didn't have a single notification in your text box, of course you wished you had at least one, but the lack of messages wasn't anything new to wake up to.

Finishing your cereal, you placed your empty bowl into the sink, brushing your hands off as you decided on what to wear from the array of work clothes in your closet.

\---

"Are you sure?" you mused, quirking your eyebrow at your instructor as you readied into position. 

"Of course," He posed himself, eyes narrowing at your amateur confidence, "I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't."

Your instructor, who adamantly told you to call him John, had suggested for you to practice your fighting against him, even though you had just started, he insisted you were making quick progress. You agreed with some level of hesitation, if you were sure about anything, it'd be that you'd almost surely lose whatever this so called match was.

John smirked, freckled cheeks creasing at the corners of his eyes, his form slowly moving towards you as a sign of the match starting. 

You chuckled dryly in response, now slowly circling him as he kept his eyes locked onto you, his senses seemingly intensified by ten fold, as yours were as well.

John made a quick move, going straight for your gut, somehow, you managed to dodge, jumping back at the last moment. Your eyes narrowed as a few strands of hair fell onto your face, your stance widening and form becoming stronger.

Quickly scanning his form, you decided the best action would be to block his next moves, waiting for an opening whenever possible. Arms coming up to your core in a defensive position, the man in front of you went for your side, which you quickly blocked, before jumping away.

"Gotta attack sometime, (Y/N)" he grunted, skidding across the mat from his overly exerted charge.

You sighed, face contorting into displeasure, of course you knew you needed to attack. You were just waiting for- got it.

You smirked at him, eyes meeting his as you charged for him, hitting him directly on the temple, hearing an almost immediate grunt from the man, before feeling a left hook straight into your gut, easily knocking the wind out of you.

You gasped, falling onto your back as you hacked up your lungs, grimace clear on your features.

John smiled down at your form, hand reaching down to you as your coughing subsided, "You did good for a first match."

"What?" you half laughed half coughed, taking his hand as you now stood, holding your side, "I did terrible."

He laughed heartily, placing a hand on your shoulder, "Of course you did! But you had confidence, and you went for the defensive position right away," he praised, "Your form was sloppy, and your stance needs improvement, but you did manage to land a good punch!"

He expressed, eyes smiling as his voice sounded jubilant.

"R-Really?" you replied, eyes going a little wide.

"Would I lie to you?" he played, nudging your arm.

You smirked, hand now on your hip, giving him the once over, "I wouldn't put it past you."

He laughed, before his tone did a 180 shift, knocking you off guard, "10 laps outside, now."

Tensing, you quickly nodded, grabbing a bottle of water and already jogging to the gyms door with a wave, "See ya in 20, John!"

You ran out the door as John stayed inside, sitting on a bench with a towel wrapped around his neck, "What a kid.." he chuckled, shaking his head.

\---

"DONE!" you exclaimed, finally finished with the fifty pushups John made you do.

He had been going hard on you today, maybe it was because he wanted you to train faster, or for another underlying reason you couldn't hope to place.

A chuckle, "You did good today," followed by a gentle gesture of the hand, urging you to take it.

You did, looking up into your instructors brown eyes, a faltering smile on your lips from fatigue, "Really?"

He nodded, sitting you down on a nearby bench, tossing you a bottle of water which you gladly took, finishing it in a second.

"I pushed you hard today," you nodded, brows furrowing, "But you exceeded my expectations!"

Smiling faintly, he continued, "You should be done with all of your training in a few months if you continue to improve at this rate."

"Only a few?!?" you exasperated, honestly surprised at the short time span, you would've thought a year, at least.

Nodding, he gestured thoroughly, "You're already very strong, didn't you break some guy's jaw with a single punch?"

You blushed out of embarrassment rather than a fluster, scratching the nape of your neck, "Yeah, not very proud of that, though."

"You should be!" he implored, looking at you with passion, "That is very promising, (Y/N), that's why I believe you'll be done in a few months, if you train like this every day, that is," a small smirk was painted onto his face.

You groaned, rolling your head back at the very thought of all the weapons training, fights, and laps you'd have to do.

"Are you in?" 

You smirked up at him as he stood in front of you.

"Of course."


	11. Fallen

You sighed, looking into the scope of your sniper rifle as you lay on top of a building, light drizzle coating your now damp body, clothed in a light grey bodysuit, a few scarf drapings, and complimented by black combat boots.

The training had only taken around four and a half months, it being the, "fastest training I've ever done!" or whatever John had said. Thus, you'd been out on the field for around a month or two, and thanks to John, you now knew how to handle about a dozen different types of weapons, nearly mastered boxing, and were thinking about taking up a martial art or two.

So far you've had roughly ten or so confirmed kills, all of them easily paying off your rent five times over, and then some, allowing you to quit your good for nothing bar tending job. You certainly weren't numb to killing, and you knew you'd never be, but it was slowly becoming easier and easier. 

Sucking in a breath, you looked down the scope, your rifle trained on a very powerful omnic, one that had been requested as a kill. Finger lingering over the trigger, you were about to shoot, that is until you heard a stray footstep just behind you, alerting you of a presence.

You refused to breathe, refused to make a sound, instead focusing in on the sounds around you, a few quiet steps confirming your suspicion. With a swiftness you didn't know you had, you swept them off their feet with a kick at their heels, causing them to land with a harsh thud on their bottom.

You stood, a combat boot crushing into their chest, noting an inhumane skin tone, and, well, promiscuous, top. The person you now identified as a woman, looked shocked, strong arms attempting to claw your foot off of their windpipe, but your adrenaline kept you strong.

"Who the fuck are you," You snarled, hand hesitating above your pistol at your hip, eyes narrowing at the blue skinned woman.

"Why shoul-d I Sp-peak to a child," She coughed, words dripping with disdain and venom, a tinge of a french accent complimenting her words.

Your eyes widened, and your boot increased the weight on her chest, making her cough and struggle beneath your build. 

"What did you just fucking say to me? Do I have to repeat myself? Tell me who you fucking are," You breathed, face coming close to hers, hand now wrapped tightly around her ponytail, yanking on it so you could force her to make eye contact.

You hadn't realized how, angry, you had become, or rather how much you vented life's frustrations on people you knew nothing about. You also hadn't realized how viscous you had began to be, especially considering how this interaction was turning out.

"s-som-mbra," she muttered, hand touching a small pad on her ear, making your grip falter, and heart stop.

You instantly recognized this as a communication piece, and that her little friends would be coming to save her blueberry ass.

A right hook landed directly onto your cheek, easily knocking you off your feet, and nearly barreling you off the ledge of the building.

The woman saw your moment of weakness, and took it as a means to take advantage of the situation, you on the other hand, knew better than to fight this lady at the moment, she seemed to be trained far longer than you, making her seem to be a bit more of a challenge then previously expected.

"Calling your little 'gang', princess?" you choked, adjusting your already bruising jaw.

She glared at you, hand covering her neck as she used some kind of grappling hook to put you in place, multiple ropes tying your body down in a blink of the eye.

You sighed, expecting to be killed for nearly beating the shit out this woman, as she spoke to some of her "friends" in a language you couldn't understand, her eyes scanning the nearby buildings.

"This is gonna fucking suck," you said to yourself, throwing your head onto the side of the building, rain spotting onto your near frozen face, fully anticipating some kind of torture machine to squeeze info out of you.

"This is the little girl that's been giving you trouble, widow?" a teasing voice said from an unidentifiable source, "She just looks like a girl with some fancy getup.."

A knife was plucked from your belt, and a purple clad woman appeared from virtually no where, looking to be a younger Mexican woman, as she toyed with one of your many knives.

"She just.." The woman you suspected to be "widow" started, hand rubbing her neck, "caught me off guard."

"Ow!" the Mexican woman yelped, finger pricked by your small knife, sucking in her breath from the sharp pain.

You repressed a giggle, staring at her petite form, "You really shouldn't play with knives," you spoke, a small laugh, "you cowuld huwt youw widdle hawnds."

A full on laugh exploded from you, the two ladies looking at you like you were the most immature thing they had ever seen, well, they weren't exactly wrong.

"ha, ha ha." The woman you thought to be Sombra spoke, a smirk playing on your lips, "Very funny, chica."

"I'm hilarious, aren't I?" you teased, already accepting your immediate death at this point, deciding to have a little fun before your sure as hell death.

"Who- is, that." a creaky voice spoke from the girls' intercoms, it sounding coldly familiar, but so distant at the same time, almost like an old friend.

A groan, followed by a snappy response from the purple clad girl, "Just some kid who tried to kill widow."

"She did not, Sombra." the blue woman snapped, lip curling at the younger girl.

Immaturely pursing her lips, she continued some unintelligible conversation with the man on the other end of the line.

A groan emitted from the woman, rolling her head back as she trudged over to her supposed... friend? known as widow. Your brows knitted in frustration, how were these over grown kids supposed killers? Their guns and other weapons telling you they weren't exactly, docile.

"He wants us to bring her back to the base," Sombra gestured towards you, the two ladies now inspecting your weapon ridden form.

"What a chore-" Widow sighed, pinching her brow bone in frustration, expecting some kind of tussle in order to remove your weapons.

"You get to pick off her weapons, Sombra." The french woman spoke, flipping her long hair behind her back, as she rappelled off the roof, supposedly to wait somewhere else for you to be hauled over.

She sighed as she looked over to you, crouching down just in front of you, eyes trailing your tied up form.

Your eyes bored into her glowing ones, lip curling at her smug expression.

"feisty, eh?" she commented, easily slipping your pistol from your hip, along with the remainder of your knives.

You only glared at her, allowing her to take you weapons, and even tipping her off on the location of a few.

"Aww, and here I was hoping you'd put up a fight," she commented, eyes lingering over your own.

"Wouldn't be too smart," your eyes traced her gun on her hip, before flashing back to hers, "would it?"

She smiled at you, a chuckle left in her throat, before surprisingly enough, she untied you, only to be left with a pair of hand cuffs.

"So," she began, carefully pulling your sniper from the ground, putting it into safety, "who do you work for?"

You looked at her, eyes widening with the realization she probably worked for someone as well, someone, big, "No one, actually."

She gave you a crooked expression, "What do you mean, 'no one'?" as she chucked all of your weapons into a sack she'd been carrying with her.

"Exactly what it sounds like- I'm a hitman of sorts? I just kind of take up jobs as they come." You gestured, attempting to move some hair from your face.

"Could've sworn you had an organization behind you," she began, grabbing you by your wrists and yanking at them, urging you to follow her, "almost everyone does."

Your heart stopped for just a moment, lips drying at the thought of, other, killers, in giant organizations, nonetheless.

"Everyone?" you asked weakly, your tonal shift knocking her off guard.

"ppft, yea?" she said, throwing down some kind of object off the building, before pressing a button, and somehow ending up on the ground in an alley way, just next to Widow, leaning up against a wall.

"That was quick," she side eyed you, before walking next to Sombra, inspecting your bag of weapons.

"Yea, little girl didn't even put up a fight," she grabbed your chin harshly, before discarding you, "And get this, she doesn't even know about us," she looks over to you, "you don't, right?"

You gave her a sloppy expression, obviously confused over whatever she was talking about, "What is there to know about?"

She snuffed out a giggle, and instead cleared her throat, talking to widow instead, effectively ignoring you, "Girl's got some good weapons though," she looked you up and down, "seems like she may have had some training."

"Why don't we ask her when we get to the base," Widow sighed, occasionally sparing you a glance or two.

"Fine," Sombra began, adjusting the sack of weapons, "see you later, chica." she waved, backing away from you, Widow standing next to you now.

"Wha-" you were caught off from a quick hit to the back of your head, easily knocking you out.

\---

"F-Fuck," you muttered, blinking wildly as you attempted to look around the cold room you found yourself in.

"Where the hell am I-" you asked yourself, attempting to stand up, only to be met with the pull and clink of chains, meaning you were stuck to the chair you sat in, just in front of a cool metal table, facing what you assumed to be a two way mirror.

Defeated, you sat back into the chair, scanning the room around you, noting the bleak, white walls, and stone cold floor.

Your clothes seemed mostly intact, besides a few rips and tears here and there.

Rolling your head back, you attempted to seal your eyes shut from the blinding LED lights, surprisingly enough, you weren't very scared. If you were being questioned, you assumed they had a use for you, which hopefully didn't mean some kind of immediate death on the horizon.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a door opening, and a few grumbles or two from a large man, with a strikingly familiar owl mask, no, you knew that owl mask.

He looked up from his clipboard he was staring so intently at just a moment before, stopping in his tracks halfway through the door.

"Reyes?!?" you began, scrambling in your seat as he dragged a claw down his face, an extremely upset expression just radiating off of him in his body language. Smoke dripping from his form as he walked back out, slamming the door behind him.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" you screamed, voice raspy and broken, directed at no one in particular.

Shortly after he went back into whatever was on the other side of the door, you heard a violent commotion, a few things breaking, and some kind of yelling, all of which you flinched mercilessly at.

You sat alone in the room, mind racing and worrying about wherever the fuck you were now, and for whatever reason they wanted you for. You were just a simple hitman, you did your job well enough, and you definitely weren't great at it, so what was their reason for keeping you here? At first, you could've cared less, but now with Reyes in the equation, and, the way he looked at you.. To say the least, you were definitely worried now.

"Let's just get this over with-" a familiar voice rung, quietly sitting just across from you at the table, the purple dressed, supposed killer, holding a clipboard.

"What's going on? Why am I her-" you began, but were quickly cut off by the feisty lady before you.

"Seems you're familiar with Reaper, eh?" she said, lip curling at your feeble form, flipping through the info on her board.

You kept quiet, looking off to the side.

"Seems like his little pet has gotten herself into some trouble..." she lingered, tracing her thumb under your jaw, which you quickly pulled away from.

"You're no fun," she snarled, sitting back into her seat, eyes locked onto you.

"Anyway, Amiga, I'm gonna need to ask you a few questions."


	12. Beaten

You looked up to her, eyes cold, and serene, "What kind of questions?" a snarl.

She leaned back, looking casually at her nails, "Just the usual ones, who you work for, your training, some history."

You groaned, "For the last time, I don't work for anyone." you knew she wouldn't believe you, especially when you nearly beat up Widow, making it seem like you had some kind of motivation other than pure instinct.

"See, the funny story is," She leaned in, giving you a small boop on the nose, before sitting back into her seat, "I don't believe you."

"Of course you don't," you shook your head, looking to the side.

"What was that?" she curled, voice a tad aggressive.

"How can I convince you that I'm, whats the word," you played, eyes mischievous, "freelance?"

She just stared at you, hand dragging down her face, eyebags telling you she was tired, and not exactly eager for the questioning, "Fine, we'll come back to this later."

A gesture or two, and an annoyed tone, "So, who taught you what you know, or better yet, who trained you?"

"You want the exact identity, or a general history?" You clarified, tied hands making some kind of movement to emphasize the point.

A blink, obviously annoyed, "Just," she pinched her brow bone, obviously not supposed to be doing this interrogation, "A general history is fine, I guess. We just need to know how 'talented' you are." she enthused sarcastically, using finger quotes to make it clear.

You hummed, pretending to think, already knowing you'd have to tell her, well, everything, "Well, if you want to know about my training first, I learned how to box, about ten different types of guns, and a few knives."

She nodded along, taking occasional notes, "and how long did this take?"

"Four months." You said, matter-of-factly.

"Four?!?" she laughed out, hands gesturing, "You can't be serious Amiga, it takes six months to learn any one of those things, each!"

You gave her a smirk, not bothering to argue with her anymore, "Next question, please."

You mentally slapped yourself, feigning confidence and wit was the only thing you could do at the moment, but pissing her off wouldn't exactly help your shaky case. The longer you stayed here, the more you worried about ever getting back out again.

She glared daggers at you, knowing this would be more annoying then difficult, and went on with the questions, "How long have you been working in this, 'industry' and how many confirmed kills do you have?"

"For about a month and half, and I'd say ten or more." you replied, trying to be more compliant.

She nodded, eyes lingering over your slumped posture and tired attitude, "Decent, decent."

"Have you had any kind of history with other gangs, organizations?"

"No. Unless we count right now.." you looked around the room, staring at the mirror for a long second.

"And if you count talking to Reaper on the off chance he would come to bar." you repressed a gnarl, eyes refusing to meet hers.

Her eyes widened, urging you to continue, "It's not like he told me anything, quite closed off, actually."

She slumped, body language telling you her disappointment, "Nothing interesting, a few surprises, but it seems like you're a standard mercenary." Sombra began, now standing in front of the table.

"Your capabilities will be tested tomorrow, got it?" she snapped, ready to finish the interaction.

You quickly nodded, body language a bit closed off from her looming form.

Smirking at your submissiveness, she leapt through the doorway, allowing you to see a quick look at Reyes, before swiftly jolting your head away, refusing to even give him the satisfaction of your broken posture.

You sighed, eyes watering, and body shaking.

"What the hell did I get myself into?"

\---

A blaring alarm woke you from your less than perfect slumber. They decided to throw you into some kind of prison cell, the walls, floor, and ceiling were all concrete. They somehow even forgot to give you pajamas, forcing you to sleep in your day clothes. Super comforting.

Thankfully, they decided to give you a small table, bed, and night stand, all bolted to the walls and floors, obviously. The room was small, perfectly squared, and had a stereotypical single window, and barred off side. It was almost comical how much it looked like the movies, instead of, y'know, an actual prison.

"Get, up." a booming voice spoke, the owners fist slamming into the wall just adjacent to you, spooking you from your far off gaze.

You jolted up, expecting to see some kind of guard, or even a warden, but instead you saw, him. The very last person you wanted to see at the moment.

In the time you had spent apart from him, you had grown a certain distaste for the man. Mainly due to his abandonment, blatant trickery, and not to mention how he so easily toyed with your emotions.

You glared at him, forcing yourself to stand up, patiently waiting for his next move.

"We're going to be testing how well you use weapons and skill today." He began, crossing his burly arms over his chest, giving you a disgusted once over, "Then we'll decide what to do with you." 

You nearly broke at how different he was acting, this must've been the true Reyes, the man you first met was just a silly, dumb illusion. One that you nearly fell head over heels for.

He unlocked the door, hand curling in a motion for you to follow him, which you begrudgingly obeyed.

"Stay close to me," He grunted, leading you through a near endless hallway of different cells, doors, and training rooms.

You saw a few people you'd like to forget, most of them looking like they went to hell and lived to tell the tale, but just barely.

Deciding against speaking up, you sealed your mouth into a thin, tight line. You wouldn't dare to throw sass at the man before you, knowing full well how easy it would be for him to tear into your feeble mind.

The sound of an opening door, and numerous mats, weapons, and training items told you that your "assessment" was about to start.

Reaper urged you into the room, now standing just behind you, before quickly leaning onto a wall, keeping you in front of him.

"You'll be fighting the trainer here, I'll, interfere, if things get messy," he said casually, already disinterested in the conversation as he pushed you in the direction of a tall, burly man.

You walked up to him, hands already sweating with a nervousness you didn't know you possessed.

"What do you know?" The man questioned, towering presence telling you that smarts were going to be absolutely necessary in order to win any kind of fight against him.

"I can box, us-" you began, getting cut off nearly immediately.

"Good enough," he shrugged, reaching into one of his numerous pockets and tossing you a roll of hand wraps, already wrapping up his own hands.

You sighed, deciding to be extra careful with the wrapping this time around, by the looks of it, you were gonna need it.

-

The two of you were now standing in a ring, eyes meeting as your mood lay downcast, especially since Reaper had made it apparent that he was interested to see whos shit would be getting beaten out of them today.

You spared a glance towards Reaper, then back to the situation at hand, deciding to start the match by simply getting into the correct position, prompting your opponent to do the same.

As a first move, you took a defensive stance, set on figuring out his strategy, strengths, and weaknesses before striking.

He seemed to be decently versed in the boxing world, but his pose lacked confidence, as ironic as that is.

Repressing a smirk, you honed in on his form, noting the quick shuffle of his feet and a quick right hook from his meaty arm, which you easily ducked from, taking the opportunity to give him an uppercut, instantly hearing the slam of his jaw.

In your hunched position, you fled from his stumbling body, allowing him to regain a bit of composure as you searched for another weak spot. 

His breathing was already starting to become labored, telling you that he had most likely only boxed a few times in his life, but who could blame em?

Eyes narrowing, you went for a few swift punches to his side, knocking the wind out of him before he grabbed your shoulder, and hit you square on the head.

After a minor barrage of punches to your cranium, you wriggled out of his grasp, your breathing altered and hair messied into your face, you threw off your overshirt, now only wearing a tanktop on your upper half.

You gave him a smile from across the ring, before charging at him, giving him a nasty left hook into his shoulder, followed by a right hook into his arm, and yet another into his side. He snarled, attempting to land another punch, but you ducked, throwing your fists into his gullet, sending him flying onto his back, knocking all the wind out of him.

Even with him down, you began to beat the ever loving shit out of his maw, all of your anger rising up from your core, just to be beat into the man before you. You thought back to every single wrong you'd experienced in the last few months, every single time your heart was broken, and every time you thought of that man. You clenched your jaw, punches getting stronger and stronger, every blow sending him closer to unconsciousness. You would've continued this berating, but you ended up getting torn from your senseless beating by a cold, clawed hand.

"Get the fuck off of him!" A menacing, angry voice yelled, "He's already down, you don't need to knock him out!"

Your breathing was hard, heavy, and ragged, all of your attention focused on the withering form below you, being looked over by Reaper. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, and your heartbeat was heard clear as day, your chest rising and falling at an accelerated pace. 

You were never able to truly beat the hell out of someone before, all of your kills were done with weapons, and precision, this knock out was done through instinct, and unbridled rage.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!?" a cloudy, far off voice spoke, but you didn't hear it, the only thing you could focus on were the white blotches blurring your mind, and how your hands refused to stop shaking.

You blinked rapidly as your mouth pooled with saliva, you could already feel the bile running up from your gullet. You broke from your trance, hurriedly running to the side of the ring, expelling the vomit from your being.

You gave into your desires, allowing yourself to spare Reaper a glance, concern, disgust, and another emotion you couldn't describe written into his mask. You felt humiliated, gross, and rotten.

"What the hell did I just do," you said breaking into a mumble, tears welling into your eyes as you pitied the man you just beat.

Reaper only stared at you, eyes wide and fearful under the mask. 

. . .

Was he the one doing this to you?


	13. Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry, (or ur welcome, depending on how u feel abt this story lol) about the chapter dump, but i just realized i hadnt posted in like 3 weeks. enjoy the angst!!

Reaper stared at the shuddering, weak form in the corner of the ring, their back heaving as sickly ooze was expelled from them. A truly pathetic image.

Their glazed over eyes met Reapers for just a moment, before quickly retreating to their own place, another wave of nausea over taking them.

The black clad man stood in utter disbelief. Was that weak, crumpled woman really the catch he met all those months ago? Really the woman who mercilessly beat the shit out of the man he was obligated to look after?

Reaper couldn't ward off the slight tremble of his mind. He'd always been strong, always been resilient to whatever was thrown his way. But he'd never seen such a 180 personality change in someone, not this fast, not this drastic.

He mindlessly spoke into his ear piece, saying the classic protocol for this situation, his voice hazy, almost weak. On any other day, any other hour, even, he wouldn't of reacted this way. But for some reason, no, some stupid reason, that pathetic little body reminded him of someone he wouldn't bother to name, someone he couldn't name.

The wraith definitely didn't feel remorse for the girl, but he did feel partly responsible, for some kind of twisted, fucked up reason. He didn't know exactly why he felt guilty, maybe it was because his very existence opened her up to the horrible world of war, or the fact he left her just when he was growing attached.

Clenching his fist and jaw, he snarled when a group of nurses rushed in, quickly skidding to the floor, careful of the mans head, afraid he had a concussion. Reaper winced at the display, noting the bruises already forming over his face, and the blood seeping from his nose, and mouth.

Walking over to the girls weak form, he reached out a single, cool claw to her back, before quickly pulling it to his side, unsure on what to do. He couldn't try to repair what they, "had" before. He refused to lull her into a false sense of security, and safety. Instead, he'd decided to do it his way.

. . .

A harsh shove nearly knocked you off of your shaking legs beneath you. Holding back yet another flood of nausea, you stood, breath hitching in your throat as your entire body shivered, eyes watery and glued to the floor.

You knew that you nearly knocked out the man just a few feet away from you, and by the looks of it, the nurses were even checking if you gave him a fucking concussion. His face looked like he'd been mauled by a dog, and it took everything in you to not burst into a sob at the sight.

With wavering eyes, you looked up to the man who pushed you, the familiar mask staring straight back. Pushing back tears, you wiped your mouth of bile with a spare bandanna, eyes snapping back to his once you finished, both terrified, and curious as to what they would do with you.

"Follow me." Reaper demanded, every word dripping with venom and empty emotion.

You flinched, before giving him a low nod, slowly trailing him out of the ring, and to wherever he was currently taking you. Your entire body shook with a fear you didn't know you possessed, for a very obvious set of reasons, the man before you absolutely terrified you. Whether it was from his personality, or the threat of upcoming pain didn't matter, all you knew was that you deeply regretted everything that led up to this point.

It was funny, really. The girl who had just beaten the soul out of a man twice her size was ruthlessly shaking as she followed a horrifying man like a dog on a chain. You would've laughed out of irony if you were simply watching this event unfold, but it was real, and the occasional glance from the man with an unfazed, cold, and bloody stare nearly made you wither in that harsh reality.

Unknowingly, your feet slowed as your hands obstructed your face with a sheer naivety, and this was quickly noted by the armor clad man.

"Move it." he growled, a bulky, cold shape that was shoved into the small of your back accompanied his less than pleasant voice.

You registered the object to be one of his shotguns, and every single hair instantly stood up on your body at this realization. Was this really the man you met over eight months ago? The man who was so kind, so warm, so giving? You couldn't even hope to continue your thoughts due to another sudden shove from the gun, easily getting your legs moving again down a seemingly endless hallway.

"We'll be taking a right once available," Reaper grunted, his standard, slightly pissed off tone returning to its normal state, even this was a huge weight off your back.

You sighed, giving him a simple nod as you relaxed, albeit slightly. 

Attempting to meet unknown eyes behind those endless black chasms of his mask, you took a risk, "What do you want to do with me now?"

You swallowed harshly, it took everything in you to keep an even voice in your question, and even more so to continue your stare into his eyes. You decided to put your foot down, and actually have some dignity before your supposed fate in the form of feigned confidence and acceptance.

He almost seemed surprised at your new found attitude, his mask trailing your form for just a moment, before looking back ahead of him, nudging you to take the aforementioned turn.

"You'll see soon enough," two bleeding irises snapped down to you, vibrant and bone chilling, "can't say it'll be pretty." 

Goosebumps spread across your body, and funnily enough, your faux attitude took charge, simply shrugging off the very real fear in your core. At this point, you were very aware that Reaper could most likely see through your thin veil of credence, but you just couldn't allow yourself to care, not when your very attitude had the ability of changing your outcome.

Fake it til ya make it! As they say, you would've laughed, but the removal of Reapers gun told you something was happening, or at least something was supposed to be happening.

You found yourself in front of a large metal door, the hinges looking at least an inch thick, and the door itself even thicker. A large tinted window sat just beside it, allowing a small peak at the interior of the room, which you didn't exactly bother to gander at.

Reaper stared at you for a moment, his once bright, red eyes were now dimmed, and almost seemed merciful, pitiful, even.

You would've questioned his gaze, but he gave a simple huff, opened the large door, and beckoned you into what seemed to be a meeting room, with a large, imposing man sitting at the end of a long table.

He was tall, strong, and seemed to have a nearly hateful stare directed at Reaper, and consequently, you. His form was slightly hunched, while his hands were folded at his mouth, his elbows on the table before him.

"Haven't you done enough?" The man asked, a decent accent wedged into his voice, as he snapped at the wraith beside you.

You would've sworn that Reaper bristled at the question, but your fear overcame you, and all you could do was stare.

Reaper opened his mouth to speak, but was caught off by the resounding laughter of the awfully intimidating man in front of you two.

"I am only joking, Reaper," he laughed, walking around the table to hit Reapers back jokingly, making him grunt from the unexpected motion, and for you to take a couple steps back.

"Now," the man began, clearing his throat and looking in your direction, "who is the little minnow you've brought to me today?"

You visibly stiffened at the question, painting a smirk onto his stern features.

"Don't be shy little one," his voice was venomous, but had the impression of an attempt at kindness, "I don't bite."

"Her name is (Y/N), (L/N)," Reaper barked, form slightly coming between you and the tall man, "I brought her here so I could, discuss something with you," he held his breath at the last few words, an unreadable emotion radiating from his body.

He glanced between the two of you, brow hardening as his stare locked onto Reaper's scuffed mask, sighing into a lean upon the table next to him.

"What is it, Reaper?" He asked, spinning a chair in his direction, while he sat in one just across from it.

The black clad man glanced at you, before looking back to the imposing man, and then back to you, seemingly waiting for, something, to happen.

The other man raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his features, "Is something the matter?"

"I just-" he grimaced, hand going to pinch his brow, before being deflected by his mask, "Doomfist, I'm not sure she should be here for this. It's over her head."

You shrunk internally at this, did he really think of you to be so childish, so immature?

The man you now knew as Doomfist flit his hand, the other going to an earpiece that rested on the side of his head, "Sombra, come and fetch the girl," he groaned, seemingly bemused now that you had to leave.

A few incoherent chortles and gags could be hazily heard through the piece, Doomfist wincing at the purple clothed girl's volume.

"I'm sure we can start with her here, yes?" He asked, hastily turning off the intercom, and looking back to Reaper, speaking up before he could refuse.

He sighed, mask boring into the man across from him's face, making him laugh, and gesture to a seat for you.

"Why don't you sit down, I'm sure Sombra will be a while," He spoke, voice both demanding, and light, definitely telling you that you didn't exactly have a choice.

Complying, you quickly sat down on a chair a spot away from Reaper, making him give you a side glance, before turning back to Doomfist, his two hands joined together while his elbows were on the table.

"What is so important that you needed to come here immediately," he gave you the side eye, "I've already heard much about this little one. She gave one of our best instructors a concussion, no?" His voice was stern, and almost sounded like a warning, with the way he stared at you so solemnly. 

"How do you know that," Reaper shot back instantly, now leaning back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

"Do you expect me to not hear about what happens around here?" he chuckled sarcastically, hand spreading before him, making a gesture to the base, "We have security cameras for a reason, Reaper."

The man next to you repressed a groan, "Besides that," He began to change the topic, obviously over the previous one, "We have to get rid of her."

Your blood ran cold at his chilling words. What did he mean by, 'get rid of her' your mind was already starting to race at all of the possibilities, but Doomfist cut you off with his resounding laugh.

"Get rid of her? She shows promise, why would you ever propose such an idea?" He laughed through his sentence, brows knotting into confusion, arms spread wide.

Reaper groaned, clenching his clawed hands as his eyes went crimson, "She's reckless, and an amateur! She nearly beat the shit out of Widow, and gave one of our best trainers a concussion, she's a fucking loose canon!" He rumbled out, his voice becoming unhinged as it reverberated through the small room, making you wince.

His words struck into you like a hot knife through butter.

"And you aren't?" Doomfist now stood, form towering over Reaper's.

Reaper slammed his fist into the table, harshly turning his head from him, mask boring into the thick, metal door, and in your general direction, as he a made a point to keep his head and body pointed downwards.

"You would not normally care over these matters," He circled over to the other man, only causing him to clench his claws further, "Is this the little pet Moira told me about?"

"She is not a PET," He growled, shadows licking at his heels, and rolling off of his shoulders, his eyes were bleeding red, and his glare was tied to floor, avoiding you at all costs.

Your heart was sinking into the pits of your stomach from pure fear and mental anguish, your body was covered in goosebumps, and every single hair stood on end. You've seen angry people, sure, but you had never seen someone this angry, this easy to rile up. You were unashamed to say it shook you to the core.

Doomfist's eyes flashed blue with confidence, he seemed to want to make him angry, to make him suffer, his mouth opened to speak, his smirk only growing in variety.

"Seems like I've struck a nerve, huh, Reyes?" 

Your hand shot to cover your mouth at this, especially from the look Reaper was emitting. His smoke nearly overwhelmed him, and his body seemed to be shaking with fervor, he was holding himself back, and the murmur of his name only sent him closer to the edge.

The door swung open with a harsh thud, the Mexican woman popping her purple colored head from the frame, her eyes closed and confident, obviously unaware of the turmoil brewing in the room.

"It's time to go chica-" She announced boisterously, opening her eyes to see the scene laid out before her, cutting off her train of thought prematurely.

"Just get her the fuck out, Sombra." Reaper snarled, jolting in anger at his curse, making his point abundantly clear.

Sombra showed a rare moment of weakness, her eyes flashing into wide saucers, as her body became as still as a statue, looking like a deer in headlights. She quickly snapped out of the trance, almost quick enough to trick you into merely thinking you had imagined it, but you knew it to be real.

You heard her mumble something of an apology as she quickly walked up to you, her hand harshly gripping your arm as her purple lips formed into a tight line.

You yelped quietly as she yanked you, making the swivel chair you were sitting in spin harshly, and your feet stutter and drag across the floor as you attempted to stand, failing every time. Your eyes briefly met Reaper's mask, his eyes looking like two, bright, swirling whirlpools, eyes you could stare at forever, until morbidly, they killed you.

Your mouth lay agape, as you finally got a decent standing on your feet, and rushed out the door with Sombra, not daring to take a second glance at whatever was happening behind you.

It scared you to your very core, sending shock waves of anxiety through your veins, and your heart.


	14. Silent

"What the fuck happened in there..?" Sombra asked under her breath, only tightening her grip on you, as she sounded half rhetorical, and half serious.

You could only stare downwards, strands of hair falling into your view as you briskly walked away from the meeting room, Sombra keeping you in tow.

"Where are we going?" You barely got out, stuttering in your words, and walk.

"Somewhere away from there," She stated, tone harsh and different from her usual light cadence.

Your expression was unreadable, but concerned, staring intently at the woman before you, until you got an idea that would either damn you, or save you.

"Hey," you started, making Sombra give you a sparing glance, before looking straight ahead of her, "Why don't we go to the training room?"

"What, so you can give me a concussion too?" she accused, turning around and shoving your arm away from her, stance wide, and her eyebrows furrowed with a snarl on her lips.

Your retreated your arm to your chest, and your eyebrows curved in surprise, and hurt. You didn't expect such a reaction from her, and all of the insults being thrown your way today weren't exactly helping either.

"No, no, I just meant we could, get rid of some frustrations, forget about _it_, y'know?" You persuaded, voice low and solemn, making sure to keep a soft and underwhelming lilt to your voice, as her hand hovered over her gun reflexively. 

She relaxed, but only a bit, her brows, stance, and overall expression slightly returning to normal.

"Is that it?" She asked, on edge and venomous, giving you the once over.

You completely understood why she didn't trust you, you had just beaten the shit out of an operative, and subsequently freaked her out in the meeting room. Not to mention she had just met you, and first saw you while you were fighting her supposed friend.

"Yes, That's it. I just want to forget it, trust me." You said honest, and earnestly, eyes and hands pleading with her.

Her expression softened for a moment, before going back to a slightly angered state, much better than before, at least.

"Ugh, fine, lets just get moving already," she sighed, hands going back to her sides, as she took slightly quickened strides to the gym, which you swiftly followed.

"So, whats your fighting style?" You asked, trying to make some kind of light in the conversation as you jogged up to her side, keeping a pace with her.

"Nothing that you know." She stated, not very interested in talking with you, the way she bit her lip told you that she was still shaken up with what happened before, "So we probably can't spar, but maybe you can show me how you use a gun?"

The Mexican woman prompted, finally slowing down as her mood changed yet again.

You flashed her a smile, making her blink a few times from surprise and give a small smile back, giving you the realization that you hadn't given anyone a genuine smile here, not like you much wanted to, though.

"Sounds good! Maybe you can give me a few tips, hmm?" You jested, sparing a stray chuckle.

You knew that you had to do everything in your power to keep her cool, to trust you. You hated manipulation, or being dishonest in any way, but you didn't see an honest route to go down. This would have to do, despite your morals and values.

The two of you gave each other a smile, as you happily walked to the gym, easily navigating to two large doors with small meshed windows. Your feigned grin was beginning to dwell on you as Sombra opened the swinging doors, showing off a few stray janitors cleaning up the ring.

You shied away from it, your hand going to block your face as you quickly walked into the room, and in the opposite direction of the scene. You had already seen blood splattered over numerous spaces, and the glare of a few nurses in the corner of your eye. You weren't exactly keen on confronting the employees that were left to deal with your mess.

Sombra sat shocked at the display, easily covering her emotions, and looked composed, but she really didn't expect, well, _this_. She knew that you had fought, and won against a trainer, but she didn't know you won absolutely. Swallowing some kind of emotion she didn't know how to deal with, she rushed to your fleeting side, laying a nervous hand on your back, making you flinch harshly at the sudden and unexpected contact.

"Not too proud of that-" you stuttered, voice croaky and hoarse. 

Your body was hunched before, but you quickly straightened out, brows upturned and worried, as a fake smile was painted onto your features, "How bout we go to the shooting range, hm?"

You asked, desperately trying to pull the conversation elsewhere.

The woman before you shoved her concern down into her gut. You had brutally knocked one of their employees out with little motive, and reason. She knew that most of Talon wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but the snap of your tone shift and how new you were to the world of war was jarring, and worrisome. You were going down a dangerous path sprinting.

"Alright, it's just over here," she gestured, attempting to keep her voice light, and warm.

You would've given her a smile if you could muster any sort of fake emotion, but you instead decided to expose the real emotion you felt, a twisted form of pain. 

With your head held high and shameful, you managed an attempt in pulling yourself together, making your way in the direction Sombra pointed to, intent on expelling the memories from your mind.

Briskly walking to the double doors to the shooting range, you noticed a few agents in the corner of your eye, seemingly glancing to you, and then muttering amongst themselves. Looks like word travels around here.

What you didn't notice was Sombra giving both of them the bird, causing them to quickly scurry off, as she jogged back up to your side, a smile on her face as she feigned ignorance.

"What guns do you like to use again?" Sombra asked, leaning forward to get a decent look at your features muddled with disdain.

You spared her a semi genuine smile, slowing down as you reached the door, looking down at her shorter form.

"I like pistols, sub machine guns, and battle rifles quite a bit. You have a machine pistol, right?" You asked, pointing to her gun as she smoothly opened the door, her done-up nails barely going over the sleek metal.

Her face nearly lit up at the recognition, "Hey, who taught you about guns, chica? No one ever takes a good look like that." She laughed, taking a long stride into the range, beckoning you to follow.

Complying, you took a quick look around the place, noting the absurd length, and dozens of stations to shoot, all with matching ear guards to boot. You'd only ever dreamed of places this big, much less be in them, the length nearly feeling suffocating, as ironic as that is.

"It really isn't that difficult-" you laughed, giving Sombra a good, warm look before walking up to what seemed to be weapons closet, swiftly opening it and scanning the weapons.

"Guess all the dudes here are just idiots, huh?" she mused, leaning against a station as she watched you pick out a gun, hyper aware of your every movement.

You laughed, your smiling face showing your sign of agreement, already forgetting about the tussle that happened just a few minutes before.

You finally decided on a sleek, engraved pistol, shining silver highlighting the intricate carvings that swirled through the metal. Constellations, stars, and other heavenly bodies stood proud against the black metal, every peak dusted with silver, and encased in a smooth resin.

"Oooh, good pick! That looks like a new one too~" Sombra smirked, stalking towards your jubilant form.

"She's a beaut alright! Can't wait to use her," you spoke, inspecting the intricacies and curves.

Sombra smiled at you, bright and honest, "Go for it, I'm excited to see how you handle a gun, can already tell your good with your hands," she joked, giving you the once over.

Your smile faltered a bit at her joke, but rose back up when you decided on using the weapon, it already being locked and loaded. 

"You gonna test your aim too?" You asked, a smirk painted onto your lips, already moving into position at a station, slowly looking down your gun's aim.

The Mexican woman laughed, pulling her gun off of her hip just to spin it, pursing her lips at your form, "Not at the moment, I'll see how you do before I shoot."

You gave her a curt nod, making sure she put on a pair of noise blockers as you did as well, repositioning yourself into the proper form, gun aiming directly towards the targets. Sucking in your breath, you steadied your arms, heart rate slowing, and senses on high alert. With a slow release of breath, you shot at your target, one, two, three times.

You gave Sombra a slightly surprising, toothy grin, eyes glistening with pride, and confidence, even if you had no idea how well you did just yet.

"Excited now, are we?" She said laughing, lightly pushing a small button on the wall, triggering the targets to come up to the stations, showing off your near straight bulls-eyes, all just a tad off from the the center, but still good for a first try.

Sombra refused to show much, but instead gave you a devilish grin at your accomplishment. Shooting was your favorite pass time as of late, and it showed.

"Very~," you purred, giving her the half lidded stare, trotting just next to her, urging for her to show off her aim as well.

"I'm sure you'll do great, Som!"

She laughed at your childish nickname, giving you a faint punch of your shoulder, making you chuckle, and walked over to the station adjacent to yours, reactivating the previous pair of noise cancelers as you did the same.

"Ready for this, amiga?" she winked, as you responded with a simple nod, overly eager to see how she would preform.

With a quick intake of air, and a lightning fast composure, Sombra emptied her clip onto the target before her, never skipping a beat, never hesitating. Her smirk told you everything you needed to know, and the subtle flip of her hair told you of her confidence, and for good reason.

As she clicked a button to bring the target up to the two of you, she nearly got all bulls-eyes, extremely impressive for her type of gun, considering it was a spray shooter. You took off your noise cancelers as she did as well, looking over her shoulder to your surprised expression.

You went wide eyed at this show of skill, turning to her as her eyes gleamed with pride, "That was amazing girl! Emptying your entire clip and hitting every single shot! Giving me a run for my money, no?" You jested, walking up to her and swinging your arm over her shoulder to support yourself, giving her a lazy grin.

She laughed, obviously bright as she allowed you to lean on her, turning her gun to safety and setting it down on a counter.

"Hey, thats my line _Amiga_!" she teased, giving you a small wink from the corner of her eye.

You have her a large smile, just about to get off of the smaller woman before a door was slammed open, echoing through the shooting range. It was unexpected, but painfully true at the same time.

"The council wants to speak with you." A growl escaped the foreboding form in the door way, cool metal claws clenched at the hip, instantly telling you who he was.

A glance to Sombra as she opened her mouth to speak, before a wicked scowl was shot her way from the man in the door frame, shutting her up in the blink of an eye.

_ **"Now."** _


	15. Feel

How were you going to talk to Doomfist, one of the most terrifying men you had ever met, twice on the same day, especially considering the rocky ride you just had less than an hour before.

Refusing to allow your shoulders to shake, you carried yourself down a long hallway, trying so desperately to not think about your friends, or about Sombra. Doing that would make you shutter, and appear weak, the worst thing a rabbit could do when they walk into the wolf's den.

Your eyes lay glued to the floor, adamant on keeping your gaze off of Reaper, knowing that his eyes were red, and his claws were bared. Small wisps of smoke flew into your face as he walked briskly, his shoulders were slightly hunched and awkward, showing off just how bad that "meeting" had gone, or just how bad what they were gonna do with you was.

You decided not to ask what was going to happen early on, whatever it was couldn't have been good, and you hoped you would at least be spared, as it seemed that Doomfist liked you to some degree.

Reaper's thick metal boots left a resounding mark against the cold tiled floors, leaving your metal lined combat boots to pale in comparison, funnily enough, it was also a decent show of just how different the two of you were, flipping a switch in your head.

Thoughts of Reaper merely toying with your feeble form ran marathons in your mind, you couldn't find another explanation for his terrifying personality changes, his violent outbursts, and the way he seemed to despise you now that he could be who he really was. A murderer. The resentment you had buried and forgot about came back into your heart at 100 miles a minute, the conclusion you had jumped to became fact in your twisted sense of morality.

Your fists clenched in shame and anger, your eyes boring holes into the back of the black clad man's hood, brimming with a swirling hatred.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, you found yourself at the room you had visited a bit before, a long, deeply engraved set of claw marks now lay near the opening of the door, instantly snapping you out of your childish thoughts, making you realize this grim reality.

The fight scene was easily fabricated in your mind, ending with Reaper leaving that mark in the door, with those exact claws that lay on every single finger. Whatever happened couldn't have been good, and the tense of your posture and expression told him all he needed to know behind your thin veil of complacency.

Reaper slowly turned around, his mask scanning your nearly shaking form, as your eyes were the perfect photo reference for a deer in headlights. You heard him sigh, definitely a surprise, before he looked to his left, then right, double surprise.

After turning back around, his hand forcefully gripped the doorknob, and he, just barely, leaned down a tad as he stared directly into your shaken up eyes, "I'm sorry," he spoke, voice choked and rancid.

A million different possibilities of what he could be apologizing for flew threw your mind, but were cut off by the quick opening of the door, and the shove that came just after.

Skidding into a halt at the harsh push, you snapped your gaze up to the multiple people in the room, already recognizing Doomfist, and seeing quite a lot of unfamiliar faces, and masks.

There seemed to be about fifteen people in the room, including Reaper, while excluding yourself. One of which, who sat very angered at the head of the large desk, was who you knew to be Doomfist, a butterfly bandage half haphazardly thrown onto his temple, and a side glance to Reaper easily confirmed the suspicion of where it came from.

Trying your best to get a good look at whoever else was here, you managed to take note of a redheaded woman, an imposing omnic, and a brown haired man, all of which you were terrified of.

"Detain her." Doomfist boomed as his hand supported his head, obviously annoyed to some extent.

Reaper quickly responded to his demand, grabbing what seemed to be a pair of handcuffs that were easily locked onto your wrists thanks to your compliance.

After doing the menial task, Reaper moved to take a seat next to another talon member, before Doomfist gave him a quick glare, and a grumble, "Don't think I've forgiven you. Stand up with her."

Reaper audibly scoffed at this, gripping the top of the chair he was about to sit in, before stomping to your side, seemingly accidentally bumping into you as he crossed his arms, making you stumble and regain your balance.

All of the people before you seemed unimpressed, but they didn't exactly seem like a humorous bunch either.

"Everyone here already knows of this girl, yes?" Doomfist plainly asked, now sitting back into his seat as he looked over everyone in the room.

Most of them nodded, or just stared straight back, before he grabbed a stack of files underneath the table, organizing them before passing a copy to each member.

"You will find her file in these organizers, I'm sure they will be interesting to scan through." Your blood went cold at the mention of a file on you, thankfully enough, it seemed to be small, but there were a couple of pages nonetheless.

You never knew anybody was keeping any sort of information on you, but then again, Sombra did do something of an interrogation, so maybe she was the one who gathered the Intel? Either way, she did a dammed good job at hiding it if she did.

You noticed how Reaper didn't have a file, and as you squinted at his menacing form, he gave you the side eye, immediately making you stare to the ground, sure on your place in this meeting.

He huffed, empty chasms staring at everyone in the room, musing at how each of their expressions would inevitably fall, then rise at the info before them. All except for the red haired woman, who kept an undying look of neutrality painted onto her features, never allowing herself to spare you as much as a passing glance.

You swallowed your fear inwardly, deciding to look back up to whoever was straight in front of you, making brief eye contact with Doomfist, before easily looking over his form, making a point that you didn't want trouble, especially not here.

His brow quirked, before he clapped his large hands, making everyone look back up to him, waiting for whatever he had to say next, as they were done while the file anyways.

"So, what do you all think of her?" He asked, a small smile on his lips as he gestured to your form, everyone's eyes following his hand to your taller than average stature.

The Omnic man scoffed, waving his hand at you dejectedly, "She's just a mercenary who's a fast learner, what's so special about her?"

"Exactly that." Doomfist smirked, "She has shown herself to be easy to train, have the ability to act fast in the necessary circumstances, and is willing to fight for our cause," he looked to you, "Isn't that right, (Y/N)?"

Your name came off as stern and chilling in his voice, so you quickly nodded at his question, "Yes, of course," you squeaked out, not even knowing what these people were fighting for, as you did everything you could to hold back the tremble in your throat.

Over crossed arms, reaper looked down to you, and weirdly enough, gave you a soft nudge that he planted onto your arm, almost reminding you of how he used to treat you. Surprise number three.

You repressed a small smile, and instead chose to keep looking straight ahead of you, not meeting any of the member's eyes, as yours belonged to the wall behind Doomfist.

"You have all already heard of her taking down Widowmaker, who I should remind you is one of the world's best assassins," a grin.

"Really?" The omnic laughed, sarcasm lacing his response, "Widow was knocked off guard, she didn't expect it, it's not like this newbie did anything special by incapacitating her for a couple of minutes."

A few murmurs and glances were thrown across the room, yet Doomfist spoke up nevertheless, "But she still managed to do it, even as a so called, 'newbie', no?"

The omnic rolled his red eyes at this, obviously giving into his reasoning, which is something you were partially rooting for, and something you also dreaded.

"What are you even proposing for us to do, Doomfist?" The red headed woman spoke up, now shifting impatiently in her seat as she stared him down.

He gave her a smirk, and a scornful laugh, "I intend to make her a talon operative, what else?"

Reaper bristled at this, but seemingly held his tongue at whatever he wanted to say, you on the other hand, were quite obviously shaken at the news. You always knew that it was a possibility, that you wouldn't be coming out of here for a long time, but you never really considered it as something real, or fathomable, until now.

Not to mention how the word, 'talon' struck some kind of nerve in you, you knew it to be familiar, but you just couldn't place where exactly you'd heard of it before.

"An operative?" She asked, laughing lowly in a sarcastic manner, pinching her brow bone, "We can't make every spitfire agent some kind of charity project, why don't we go 'scouting' if you want more members?"

His smile faltered for just a moment, and his brows furrowed considerably at the woman, he now stood up, as his eyes and voice were dark and menacing, "A recruit like this doesn't always show up to our doorstep every other week, now, do they?"

She didn't care to respond, she seemed to blatantly disagree with the cold stare she shot him, but Doomfist didn't seem to care in the slightest, voice becoming happy and jubilant as he regained his posture, a smile painted onto his face.

"I'm sure you are all interested in her now, no?" he asked, grin sticking around as he eyed every single person in the room, leaving some extra room for you.

Murmurs were heard from the group of people, before a few of them flipped through the files again, and quickly snapped them closed, looking back up to their leader as a signal they were ready.

"Wonderful!" he sarcastically chimed, clapping his large hands together as his eyes closed, "We will do a simple raise of hand for accepting this girl into talon, majority rules, as always."

A shiver of horrifying anticipation rolled down your spine, you had no idea if you wanted to be apart of talon, but it seemed like you didn't exactly have a choice.

He confidently strode back into his seat, giving you and Reaper a quick stare from across the room, before flitting his gaze back to his clasped hands, "All in favor of taking (L/N) into talon, raise your hand," he rumbled out, easily raising his right hand.

A few sighs and mixed expressions came from the 15 odd people, but it seemed as though they all raised their hands, even the omnic and the woman who oh so objected your supposed arrival, yet their expressions lay neutral and body language read less than enthused.

Sure, everyone raised their hand, except for Reaper, who left his arms crossed and stare morbidly straight.

"Reaper?" Doomfist rolled out, his features emotionless, "Do you care to vote?"

The man just next to you had a snarl leave his mask as small wisps of smoke rolled off his shoulders, you suppressed a cough and wheeze at this, but kept your eyes locked onto his every movement, knowing that you absolutely needed to know what his vote would be.

He moved his head away from you and the rest of the room as he begrudgingly let his arms hang loose, and do what you thought had been a mirage.

He held up his right hand with the hollow laugh of a dead man.


	16. Fleeting

Your lip quivered and your heart ached as a pair of armed guards carried you down a seemingly endless hallway. The meeting had ended a couple of minutes ago, and it seemed as though everyone had mixed emotions over you joining, and you were none the wiser due to your racing heart and mind. 

Ever since you came here you've been stressed, and to know that you were expected to join them only made you sick to your stomach, hell, you didn't even fully grasp what they even did yet! 

You heard bits and pieces of what this organization did in a debriefing between you and Doomfist after everyone else filed out of the room, save for a guard or two. He thought it was necessary to tell you that you would be heading over to their medical wing so you could get a routine check just before you made your way to his personal office so you could, _talk_, more. You both knew it would be a one-sided conversation, but he seemed to act like he cared, which made it pleasant, at best.

Your thoughts, funnily enough, made their way back to Reaper, the very man who had been sending you the most mixed signals of any guy you had ever talked to. One minute, he's trying to comfort you and apologize for something you didn't even know about, and another he's barging into you and making you feel like shit! 

You couldn't even tell how you felt about him any more, whether it was a feeling of warmth, neutrality, disgust, or even fear, you didn't know. All you knew was that whatever this place was didn't feel right, _he_ didn't feel right.

Ripping your racing mind away from the self destructive thoughts you were facing, you decided to keep yourself focused on the hallway in front of you, and thankfully, it seemed that you found yourself just where you needed to be, the medical wing.

With fast footsteps and the pain of your chains rubbing against your wrists, you made it into a small, personalized doctors office of sorts. You only had a moment to look around before the familiar red headed woman popped up from behind a medical curtain, a neutral expression with knotted brows, and a large clipboard carried in her spindly hands.

Before you could introduce yourself, she took the lead, bowing down only slightly to meet your similar height, hand prompted for you to shake, "(Y/N) (L/N), the new recruit, you'll find my name is Moira, but you may call me Dr. O'Deorain," she said matter-of-factly.

You took her hand with a tad of hesitation, attempting to meet her different colored eyes, only to be met with hidden hostility and disdain.

"It's, nice, to meet you, Doctor." you spoke, nearly fumbling over your sentence as you tried to find the words, your anxiety putting a smirk onto her crooked lips.

Straightening her posture, she flitted her hand at the guards, apparently a sign they were no longer needed as the fled the area, leaving you alone with the sinister woman.

"Sit here." she said, gesturing to a large medical seat that was wrapped in plastic, and a thin sheet of wax paper.

You complied, hoisting yourself onto the tall seat as she fumbled with something in her coat's pockets, before pulling out a key, and freeing you from your restraints.

You gave her a warm smile as you rubbed your slightly sore wrists, "Thanks, that helped a lot."

She stared at you for a moment before going to a counter to the side of the room, sorting through vials, needles, and papers before settling on a small assortment of the three.

You gulped at a particularly long needle, and your queasy reaction made Moira chuckle, a small shake in her shoulders from the action.

"Don't worry, I won't be using these for you, just getting them prepared for a future patient," she mused, allowing you to slightly relax into your seat.

"I do have to ask you a few questions on your medical history that I don't already have, though," she sighed, seemingly holding a file of your very records, making you feel a tad light headed.

You pushed the thoughts away as you nodded, looking up to her for the questions she spoke of.

Giving you the once over and a sly smile, she sifted through a couple of papers, before looking back to you, "Have you ever had a surgery? Broken a bone? Any kind of medical history i should know about?"

"Hmmm, no, not that I can think of," you said, letting your eyes trail and memorize the room, taking note of the many gadgets and over the top pieces of medical equipment lining every inch of the space.

Nodding she never took her eyes off of the clipboard, "I'll just have to measure your height and weight, please stand on this scale," she mused, already standing next to the aforementioned measures.

You complied, making your way over to the scale as you stood on it shakily, seeing your weight pop up on the small screen next to it, and feeling a small thwack on the top of your head from the height stand, seeming like a two birds one stone kind of thing.

Moira squinted at the results and hurriedly wrote them down, clicking her pen absentmindedly as she beckoned you off of the scale, having you sit back down on the large seat.

"Five foot ten, you're a tall one for sure," she laughed, finding it ironic as she still sat 7 inches taller than you, "aaaand your weight seems perfectly fine, theres really nothing else for you here, well of course, besides going to Doomfist's office," she spoke, nudging her head in his general direction, obviously no longer caring for you as she scribbled something down on dozens of papers.

You merely stared at her, attempting to decipher those endless eyes, but deciding against it as you stood from the medical chair, making your way back out of the hallway, where more guards would presumably take you to your next destination.

"Oh and (Y/N)," she called, looking over her shoulder as you turned to face her once again, "I do hope you find yourself welcome here, we're _all_ grateful to have an agent such as yourself in our midst."

Her voice was strong, apparent, and most of all dripping with empty promises and venom. You tried to brush it off, giving her a half baked smile and nod, before making your way out of the room, and into yet another pair of handcuffs.

"What was I expecting," you sighed, looking up to the guards who escorted you.

They both stared straight back, making sure to keep you in front of them with your hands cuffed behind your back, seemingly attempting to keep you from trying something, not like you even had anything to fight them with, anyways.

They would occasionally bump you into the right direction, or shove you into a sudden change in steps, leading you down a maze of twists and turns in the identical hallways.

You sighed inwardly at the situation you were in, somehow you felt like everyone here was both rallying for your success, and your downfall. The Talon base felt both cold, and burning hot to you. You didn't exactly know what to expect from a military base, but you also didn't exactly anticipate whatever this was. You had heard of others before this one, the main being Overwatch, and you always heard stories of how wonderful it was, how homey it was. Maybe times had changed? Or maybe those stories were nothing more than that, just stories.

You sighed outwardly this time, looking back up from the floor you were previously staring at seemingly at a perfect time, as you found yourself before a large, metal door. It seemed quite similar to the meeting room you saw before, yet it appeared to be smaller, and didn't have a large scratch down the middle, of course.

You guessed this to be Doomfist's office guessing by the small plaque that sat cemented onto the front of the door, reading his supposed call sign, and his possible real name just below, Akande Ogundimu.

You hummed lightly at this, making sure to square your shoulders and stand straight at the near reality of facing such an imposing man. You knew him to be strong, stern, and downright terrifying. His very presence could send you into a spiral if you thought about it too much.

Already knowing what to expect was able to put you at ease in a strange, but encapsulating way. 

One of the guards gave a subtle, but almost coded knock, one that you didn't care to memorize, but noticed in some kind of detail. You heard a short, "come in," from the man behind the door, sounding tired, and almost expectant of your arrival, which wasn't a huge surprise.

The two guards quickly complied by opening the door, swinging open the heavy door, just for you to see Doomfist sitting at a large, half metal, half wood desk. His eyes were deep, and cool, evidently like large hidden glaciers that had thousands of monstrosities just below the sea. You wouldn't care to try and uncover those mysterious eyes, as you couldn't even think of allowing that kind of mental anguish to be released upon yourself, especially not here.

His eyes flicked to the guards as he then leaned over the table, propping his elbows onto the wooden surface, "Get out, and give me the keys to her handcuffs, this girl has no intention of harming me, I can assure you."

His voice was wicked and deep, carved from mountains and dragged through deserts, "You all really care too much," he laughed, shallow and so deep at the same time.

The guards did as he said with not a second to spare, slightly nudging you to his hulking form, which he quickly responded to by ushering you to a seat just opposite from him.

He gestured for the cuffs on your hands, "Let me see those, these guards put too much effort in sometimes," he restated, seemingly caught up on the subject, or trying to make some kind of conversation.

You laughed a bit, "Uh, yeah, I guess it would seem that way," you looked away for a moment as he undid your bindings, setting your sore wrists free, "you wanted to talk to me about joining Talon, right?"

He nodded, a small smile on his face due to your attempt at conversation, "I'm sure you will come to like it here, everyone does."

The last part felt like a warning, despite his fairly warm tone.

"Anyway, Talon is prioritized on making the world stronger, as it has become weak, and vulnerable," he began, his voice rumbling from his core, "We would like to do this by putting it through conflict, through war. It will make the people stronger, it will make _us_ stronger."

His voice was deep and sure, while his lips were left in a small smile, he was obviously trying to convince you.

You gulped, the cause did seem like it had good intentions, but was war really what the world needed? Would it even make it stronger? 

Doomfist noticed your turmoil, giving you a sly look, followed by leaning back into his chair, "Feel free to take your time deciding, I know you're smart, and that you will make the right choice," he spoke, his accent thick enough to cut through.

The confirmation of him expecting you to join only made you even more worried, a shiver was sent down your spine, and your scared eyes flicked to his confident ones. You knew that he expected you to join, that unimaginable things would happen if you refused, you already got cleared to join, and the snide comments from the council cemented your fear and the resounding pressure.

"Do-" he began, yet your confidence sky rocketed and you interrupted, brows knotted and expression true, "I'll do it. I'll join you."

Your hand was leveled in front of you for him to shake, your posture was strong and your stare was spitfire, the change in attitude made him laugh as his brow quirked at your display.

"You are a treasure for sure, (L/N)," he happily shook your hand, grin on his face and heard in his voice, "I'm so very glad to have you here."

You gave him a smile, folding your hands across your lap once you finished the shake, "You do have a few papers to sign, if that's alright," he mused, adding in the last part was customary, as you didn't really have a choice at this point.

You nodded along, gripping a black ballpoint in your dominant hand, ready to get the whole thing over and done with, not very keen on contracts, but, what the hell? Not like you had anything to lose, anyways.

He easily slid a single paper over to you, surprisingly, there wasn't much to read, and it only had one place for you to sign. Quickly reading over the paper, making sure to triple read the fine print, you found it to be a perfectly normal contract, could be broken at any time upon request, easy.

He looked like he wanted to explain the paper a bit, but you easily understood, and quickly wrote your signature at the bottom, sure you would break under the crippling faux expression you painted onto your form if you allowed him to speak, to drag this on longer than needed.

He flashed you an undying grin, a small chuckle in his throat as he took the paper, scanning it quickly before stuffing it back into a file that supposedly had all of your currently collected information.

"Now that you're set on joining, I'll gave you a basic rundown of how things will be around here," he began, making sure you were paying attention, "In your first week here you will be grouped with the new recruits, go through basic training, skill tests, and anything else we deem fit. After that, you will be placed in your respective title, and given your room based on how you preform."

You nodded along, listening intently, knowing this would be your only time to hear this vital information, "There's not much left to say regarding how things work around here, you'll come to know how things operate in time, anyway."

You hummed, pretending to be in some kind of thought as you attempted to stall whatever exchange you were having, "So, when do I start?"

"You'll start tomorrow, and you'll be bunking with a few other agents, your room is 405," he mused, folding his large hands across the table as he stared you down, a small glimmer in his eyes.

You gave a low chuckle, "Also, can I get some new clothes? I don't exactly have a set of spares."

He nodded, seemingly surprised at this as he tapped a small button on his temple, before saying some kind of code, and releasing it after he was finished, "Strange you didn't get the new wardrobe I ordered, Reaper was _supposed_ to deliver them to you," he gestured, a bit annoyed.

The name drop caught you off guard, but it also told you why you didn't get a new outfit, "Oh, don't worry about it! Things can get messed up all the time," you said sweetly, worriedly messing with your thumbs under the table.

He nodded, no longer paying you much mind as he scrolled through a small hologram he sputtered before him, eyes quickly flitting between lines, and smile soon falling.

Sighing, he waved away the small screen, massaging his temple in annoyance, "I've just had a setback, so I won't be able to escort you to your room, but I managed to get a guard here to help. You'll be waking up at 5am to head the gym tomorrow morning, be ready."

His voice was deep and menacing, telling you he no longer planned to baby you, and now saw you as a simple agent, already sending you away with a small flit of his hand.

"Will do, sir," you prompted, standing and scooting you chair back into it's place, "I hope you'll find me to be useful, here."

"I'm confident you will, agent."

You nodded to him as he got along with a task, turning on your heel and making you way out of the office, you faced a familiar guard.

"Fancy seeing you here," you began, before being cut off with a pair of handcuffs restraining your wrists behind your back.

"Now that's a surprise," you sighed, almost laughing as you rolled your head back, sealing your tired eyes shut.

The guard only grunted, giving you a side eye through his thick, grey visor that was encased in a sleek metal, almost bright against his all black uniform.

"Just follow me, you're a bit aways from The Successor, but it won't be taking us too long," he grumbled out, cracking his neck as he explained the simple plan.

You only gave him a simple stare, letting him know that you were ready to head to your new room, already over this whole, not being trusted, thing.

On one hand, you understood why you weren't trusted, you had beaten two of their agents, and were unaffiliated before you joined Talon, meaning you didn't exactly have a place in a simple comparison of morality. But on the other hand, you had just complied with joining them, and agreed to all of their terms with little to not issues. Your menial thoughts didn't really compare to the mental anguish you were gnawing over, as you had no idea if you had done the right thing, by joining them.

"Uh, this is your stop?" the man beside you spoke, slightly gesturing towards a marked door, thick eyebrows quirked under the visor.

You snapped out of your worried thoughts, eyes flitting to his as you realized you were at your location, maybe you should've payed attention to where you walked, but you couldn't say it mattered now.

"Oh! I- I'm sorry, I didn't realize," you murmured, a nervous smile on your lips.

The guard nodded, sighing from behind the mask as he shuffled to your back, his gloved hands undoing your cuffs with refined haste.

He walked away as quickly as he arrived, pressing on the increasingly familiar comm on the side of his temple, muttering some kind of code as he rushed down the halls, leaving you in front of some kind of dorm.

With a grimace, you shyly pushed open the worn wooden door that was lined with a black metal, head poking into the room before the rest of you, already seeing it barren and cold. The room was expectantly simple, the walls being grey and hollow, while the 3 sets of bunk beds were perfectly aligned against the wall, small dressed set up next to each set.

You noted how the taken bunks had small bed sheets hanging from the side, obstructing the view from pesky onlookers, leaving one unoccupied bed in the corner on the bottom, which you supposed to be yours, as it was tipped off by the large set of new clothes that sat on top of the bedding.

With a sigh, you made your way across the room, flopping onto the bed with a bounce face first, before flipping onto your back, staring up at the metal bed frame.

"This will be interesting."


	17. Slowly

You jolted upright in your bed with beads of cold sweat compiled onto your brow, your body stiff and shaky. You couldn't tell what time of day it was thanks to the windowless room, but you guessed it was early thanks to all of the soldiers around you sleeping like rocks.

Your eyes stayed glued to your shaking hands that were forcefully bundled in your sheets, your heart hammering out of your chest as your breath was uneven and wispy. You just had yet another nightmare that had begun to become common in your life as a new criminal. Thankfully, you could never care enough to remember any of them, but streaks of blood, gunshots, and screams always plagued your mind after they finished, and there they stayed.

Your body hadn't felt true rest in quite a while, and judging by the way things were run around here, you guessed this would continue for the foreseeable future.

On every night you awoke from a nightmare, you nearly wished you could remember, so just maybe you could overcome what was troubling you. But life wasn't kind, and she would rip everything away from you that brought you comfort.

\---

"Stand tall, recruits!" An older man yelled, his beard twisting with how his jaw slammed open with each gnarled out word that would hang in the air of the gym.

After your little escapades with sleep, you couldn't manage to fall back into it, and sadly enough, you laid awake in your bunk for around an hour or so. You didn't much mind, it gave you the time to think about what had happened so far, it seemed like everyone around you was decent enough, and hell, even the girls you bunked with didn't seem half bad.

"Today we'll be doing the general tests of endurance, strength, agility, and precision, the other tests will come later," He bellowed, walking up and down the neat line of women and men before him, standing in three nice rows of ten each.

You, and a few other future agents, inwardly sighed at the word, "other" you just knew they would be impossible, not to mention the insane amount of testing you had to do today.

"Don't go soft on me, now!" he half laughed, half sneered, "The tests will come in two sets, with a break in-between. We don't plan on breaking you."

His voice and tone sent shivers down your spine, but you kept your shoulders squared and eyes straight ahead of you, occasionally following his pace. The pose you held made your new bruises ache and your muscles stiffen from your fight previous, but you knew it to be a standard procedure, and necessary if you wanted to be taken seriously.

"We'll be starting our first test shortly, before, I'd like you all to stretch, you'll be running soon enough."

You nearly groaned aloud at this, you were never much good at running, and you supposed this to be a perfect show of a particularly weak skill, but if you could at least keep up, it wouldn't be all bad. Knowing it'd probably be a mile run or so, you made sure to thoroughly stretch your legs, and anything else that was needed. As you stretched, you noted how everyone around you looked a bit confused, or just as lost as you, it seemed like the people around here liked to give you little, to no real information, possibly to see you flounder, or maybe they didn't even care.

There were around a dozen guards near you, quite overkill for only 30 trainees, but they probably had their reasons, either to break up fights, or maybe even to observe for some kind of twisted fun. Either way, you couldn't bring yourself to care much, you were attempting to stay focused as you finished up the final stretch, and hop back up from the previous position you were in, brushing off your hands as you glanced around the room.

Everyone seemed to be finishing up, and looked to the man commanding you for some kind of guidance, "Out to the track!" he demanded, rigidly pointing to double gym doors.

The lot of you made some kind of gesture in accordance, easily jogging to, and out of the gym doors. You all made your way to a barren field, small, withered patches of grass laying on the parched earth, as a large dirt track stretched across the large field, it being an oval in shape. You already knew you'd have to run god knows how many laps around that accursed track, the memories of burning muscles and empty lungs filling your mind.

"You'll be running twelve laps! That's three miles, you'll be timed, and graded on your performance," he grunted, staring down all of you, "Well? Get moving!"

His bark, followed by the sound of an ear piercing whistle sent your small troop into a tumbling, and worried mess, nearly running over each other as you attempted to space yourselves out accordingly, while others tried to run over their peers instead. Judging by the displayed behavior, you could already tell this would be a competitive scene, and if you wanted to take a spot, you'd have to push yourself to your limits.

Great, just great.

\---

"W-What do you mean?" you almost yelped, gasping for a good breath of air.

"Your performance was worse than expected," the man who had been commanding you nearly laughed, chewing on the end of his pen, "Very abnormal according to your records, seems like you have quite a lot of work to do here."

The man spun his pen, giving you a snark once over as he turned his back to you, walking back to the gym where the rest of the future agents also directed towards, a varying level of exhaustion sweeping through their faces.

The little run had been much more taxing on you than you originally thought, fatigue seeping into your form in only the first mile, telling you wonders of how desperately you needed to work on this particular skill. The rest of your peers didn't do much better, everyone finishing in under thirty minutes, one after each other, save for a handful of more athletic trainees, easily the early favorites of your instructors.

Somehow, you dragged yourself to the gym, your sweat ridden shirt pulled to your face so you could wipe the considerable amount of sheen from your features, giving a hardy spit to the dirt just after, earning a look of disgust from a few girls, and a laugh from some boys. Surprisingly childish for adults in a military base, but what did you expect from Talon?

Wait, what exactly did you expect to gain from being here? Realistically, almost nothing, the main motivation from entertaining these people was the fear of being killed, or thrown into the slammer, with the slight possibility of helping the world by following their message. You doubted you could, or would do much, but every set of hands helps.

Pushing against the swinging door slightly weakly, you held it open for a few other people, either getting a small smile as thanks, or being blatantly ignored, before everyone else came in.

With a sigh, you made your way over to a couple of double benches you were instructed to sit at, just next to the aerobics area.

The instructor stood tall in front of you all, his green army jacket standing proud against his black sweatpants as he itched his well groomed beard, looking over a small holopad before flicking it away, turning his attention to you all.

"None of you did good today, not even decent," he began, this news cracking a smirk onto your once monotone features, "But, that is to be expected from a bunch of amateurs. Anyway," he pinched his brow, pretending like he didn't blatantly insult all of you, "We'll now do a couple of basic exercises to test your strength, there will be three in total, and then you can all take a break."

A resounding release of breath was heard from your small group, everyone obviously glad that the possibility of a break was in sight.

You noted how he sneered at your little display, stalking off to a supposed second instructor, whispering some kind of comments off to him, as the listener nodded along. They both spared your group the rare glance or side eye, before returning to their dribble, they were either critiquing your performances, or simply gossiping whatever they deemed fit.

Eventually, he returned to his previous position in front of your slightly irritable group, a few of you talking amongst yourselves, or even playfully jabbing at each other, both physically, and with witty remarks. Somehow, you forgot your inner turmoil and found a small glimpse of fun with a small comment on how a guy ran, followed by a small punch to your shoulder, and choked out laugh.

Of course, this was quickly ruined by the man with the greying goatee, his worn out grey eyes scanning all of you devilishly, before he straightened his jacket, "That's enough out of you, you're all to the deadlifts," he demanded, tilting his head towards the area he mentioned with some merit.

You all stood up as a group, quieting down considerably, with a small mutter remaining amongst yourselves. The man continued to glare at you, his stone eyes tracing all of you as you made your way across the gym to the weights, lining up in to 3 neat rows.

"I'm sure you all know how this goes by now," he sighed, walking back to everyone as he pinched his brow, closing his eyes in annoyance, "You'll first be given weights that are 1.5 times your body weight, followed by 1.75 if you can handle it, and so on and so forth until you can't continue. All you're required to be able to lift is 1.5, so don't worry that much."

A few sighs of relief were relinquished upon the crowd, and your confidence quickly grew at what he revealed. You knew that your training had a huge focus on strength, and that you would at least do well, if not great in this test.

Your smirk morphed into a small grin, your devilish eyes glistening as he caught your gaze for a moment, and your uneven confidence happened to be on the higher side, allowing you to stare straight back, flashing your teeth to the jaded instructor. He glared at you, yet you stayed smug and in form, eyes no longer following him, as he gestured for your group to the weights, the first line just in front of you going first.

The ten or so of them heaved their aching joints from their crooked positions, hauling into position before a dozen respective sets, all set at their general body weight.

"We'll first test if you can lift 1.5x your own body weight," he walked in a line behind all of their nervous builds, a large barbell sitting in front of each trainee, "We'll move onto larger weights soon enough.."

Unsurprisingly, you quickly tuned the burly man out, instead setting your eyes onto each of the people before each weight. Most of them seemed underprepared at best, with a few of them looking to at least be able to carry their own.

"This is boring as hell, huh?" a nearly scraggly looking man to the right of you whispered, elbow nudging your arm.

Holding back a laugh, you nodded, "They all look scrawny as shit, think they're going nowhere fast."

The tanned man snickered, propping himself on his elbows positioned over his knees.

"Says the girl who ate shit on the run," He hushed, eyebrows raising while his lips pursed, joking with you.

Shaking your head and rolling your eyes with a smile, you opened your mouth to reply with a witty remark, yet you were quickly cut off.

"Time's up!" the instructor bellowed, brows knit with resounding disappointment, flipping a page on his clipboard while he chewed on the back of his pen.

His stare met the next row of you, the man next to you having an almost unreadable expression on his half shaven face.

"You're all up, don't do as horseshit as the last recruits, don't wanna embarrass yourselves," The commander said, throwing a harsh jab to the less than proud trainees.

Somehow, you ended up the first in line thanks to being a bit slow from the fatigue of running, and you had to admit, you were somewhat nervous going up, but you managed to walk up after the lot of them, positioning yourself before a weighty barbell.

A small woman came up to your stance with a small holopad in hand, a checklist scribbled onto the glowing blue interface.

"What's your name?" she asked quickly, looking over her squarish eyeglasses.

"(F/N) (L/N)." you quickly responded, standing to some kind of attention.

She nodded, checking off something on her pad, before yelling for an entire two hundred and forty pounds to be added onto your bar, it's safe to say you were a little worried.

Two men clobbered up to your bar with the weight discs as the woman proceeded down the line, your little 'friend' being two guys down from you.

Before you could continue thinking, the older instructor walked up to you directly, allowing you to spy his name tag, the bold letters reading 'Miller.'

"Alright (L/N) you're first up. This first set is 1.5x your original body weight," he paused, looking over you, "Let's see if you can handle it."

That alone told you all you need to know. With slight speed, you lowered yourself over the bar, remembering what you were trained to do. Your hands clench over the bar, and you easily lift the weight, almost surprised from your nerves.

Setting the bar back down, the instructor nodded for the next sets of weight to be added, and a small check marked next to your name. The same men from before got back to you, adding an extra forty pounds to your bar.

Your lips pressed into a line, you knew you would be ok with the initial two hundred forty, but you only went this far occasionally, so a pit of worry easily festered in your gut.

Sighing deeply, you grasped the bar and lifted, finding the resistance to be notable, but not terrible. Taking a deep breath, you held the stance, before dropping the bar back to ground with a huff, already proud you could still lift that much, considering you hadn't trained in a while.

"Impressive, considering how this started," Miller said, adding another check to your name, "Think you can handle twice your bodyweight?"

You paused for a moment, mulling over his words and tone, he seemed to be somewhat happy with your results, and lifting that bar was challenging, but not as much as you had originally thought it would be.

"Yes," you sighed, quickly looking up to him, meeting his gruff expression, "I'm sure I'll manage," you finished, straightening your posture and standing to his attention.

He gave you a slightly hostile smirk, and motioned for the men to add another forty to your load, totalling the weight to be three hundred and twenty pounds, you gulped.

If you were being brutally honest, you had never lifted over three hundred and even that was an achievement, and it seemed like everyone around you, including the higher ups, would take any chance they could get to rip into each other, especially if someone like you got too big for their britches. Saying you were nervous would be a grave understatement.

You wiped your clammy palms against your sweatpants, deep breath erupting from you as you positioned yourself accordingly, hands nearly shaking onto the bar. With a rush of adrenaline you didn't know you had, you swiftly lifted the bar to your waist, holding only for as long as necessary before quickly dropping the weight back down, your entire body screaming at you to stop.

Miller grinned down to you widely, you couldn't tell if it was out of some twisted delight to see you huffing with your hands on your knees, or if he was genuinely impressed by your lift.

"Great work, recruit, that almost makes up for your mediocre run today. Rest up for a few, we'll see how you do on the rest of the tests."

His tone was lighter than it was a moment before, so it relieved you somewhat, but you couldn't dwell on it as you nearly collapsed onto the benches just a few steps from where you lifted. Shortly after you relinquished your position to the benches, the man from before sat just beside you, panting like a dog with a smile on his scruffy jaw.

"You blew those fuckers out of the water," he laughed, referring to the struggling recruits that barely made it to 1.75.

You shook your head, smiling as you rested your elbows onto your knees, tapping your foot, "Nah, just some crazy fluke that I was able to lift that much," you looked over to him, "I've never done that much weight before."

His eyes widened just a bit, "No shit?"

"No shit."

He laughed, springing his arm straight out in front of him, "My names Arturo Romero, you?"

"Nice name, mine is (F/N) (L/N)," you responded, grabbing his worn out hand in yours, and shaking it with vigor.

Grinning at this, he stood up from his seat, gesturing to something just behind you.

"Great to meet someone with a half decent head on their shoulders, wanna head to the water fountains?" he urged rather than asked, already walking to the fountains with a sense of necessity.

Chuckling dryly, you hoisted yourself up from your position and walked just behind the slightly taller man, taking note of his sun kissed, freckly skin.

"You come here often?" you joked, smiling snidely as you bent at the waist to meet the eyes of Arturo as he hastily drank water.

All he did was smile and nudge you to the left, making you stumble and laugh, before residing to the water fountain, happy to get your fill of water.

You both tried to suppress, and embrace the fun you were having with this other recruit. He seemed to be half decent, a huge step up from the rest of the trainees, which all looked to be criminals, killers, or both. A part of you knew that this wouldn't last long, but the other wished it so desperately did.

Blinking back to attention from your thoughts, you stood from the water fountain, wiping your features off with your charcoal tank top.

"Wanna head back?" you suggested, looking down to see him still drinking water, somehow, "I think the rest of them are finishing up.."

He nodded curtly, clearing his throat as he adjusted his shoulders and his posture, nodding his head towards the rest of the group, a signal for you to follow.

"Its gonna be a long fucking day.." you grumbled out as you crossed your arms behind your head, looking at the instructor bark orders at a fumbling recruit.

Arturo snickered, sending a hand through his curly black hair, "Now if that ain't the truth."


	18. Chapter 18

The rest of your testing went... unremarkable. If you were to be perfectly honest. All the rest wasn't much more than light exercises that were more compulsory rather than actually needed. It mostly consisted of pull ups, general weapons proficiency tests, and a tad bit of sparring, just to see how much you could dodge.

You, Arturo, and around five other recruits placed top of the trainees, all gathering some kind of attention from the instructors. The rest of the lot either did decent, or mediocre, none of them seeming to have almost any real physical training before they came to talon. Heavens knows how they got in.

All you knew from the moment you left the gym was that you were starved to your core.

Sighing loudly as the large swinging doors set back into place behind you and the other top recruits, you laid your hands behind your head, mind already wandering to what you wanted to eat for lunch.

"Y'all heading to the cafeteria?" Arturo called, trailing just behind you.

A resounding string of confirmations flew back to him, making him adorn one of the biggest shit eating grins you had ever seen.

"Thank god I don't have to go in there alone," you commented, throwing your hands into your sweatpants pockets, "woulda been weird as hell to walk into a full mess hall by myself."

A couple of the guys laughed at this, seeming to share your thoughts.

"Weird? Dude, you beat the shit outta that lard head yesterday, I don't think people will be messing with you all that much," A woman you have come to recognize as Quinn replied, shaking your shoulder with light fervor.

You scoffed jokingly, "Don't really know if that's a good thing, Quinn."

"How? I'd looove to be in your position," she began, leaning back on her heels as you all continued down the hallway to the cafeteria, "No one to bother me, respect from my peers, fear from the weak ones~" she trailed off.

You smiled, only shaking your head as a response, appreciating the playful banter in this otherwise bleak setting.

Before you could even think of opening the quickly approaching double doors to the mess hall, Arturo was way ahead of you, nearly sprinting to his destination. You failed to hold in a laugh at his pure enthusiasm, which he blatantly ignored, as he threw open the entrance, a smug smile plastered onto his face.

"Sure are excited to eat, huh?" Graham spoke, the man being a tall, slightly older, gruff recruit you had met along the way.

Thankfully, you had gotten at least a bit antiquated with Arturo, Quinn, and Graham while the seven top trainees, that includes you, were held back in order to talk to Miller. He said he was giving you all a specific regimen to follow that was different from the rest.

The other two men that placed highly weren't much to sneeze at, not that they weren't talented, no, they were just as capable as anyone. They just tended to keep to themselves, much more of the observer types. Either way, they had decided to tagalong with the rest of you, must've thought it'd be better to stick together than to split apart.

"You kidding?" Arturo responded, smug grin on his face while his eyes were half lidded.

Graham only shook his head in response, walking just up beside him so he could hold the door open for the rest of you, earning a quick 'thank you' from everyone.

Walking into the mess hall wasn't as bad as you had expected, sure, you got a quick glance or two, but definitely not something you'd go running home about. You still felt as guilty as ever for what you did to that man, you felt like all eyes were on you, judging you, criticising you. Anxiety was on the rise in your system and it seemed like everything could make you jump.

Attempting to smother those feelings of worry deep inside your core, you trotted back up to the side of the tanned man, elbowing his arm to get his attention.

"Whatcha gonna get for lunch?" you lazily said, trying to relax yourself.

"Whatever they're serving up, really," he commented, thinking a bit, "Why, you have something in mind?"

You hummed, "Not really, just in the mood for something good for once. They gave me the crappiest food yesterday, tasted like someone puked it up before giving it to me."

Arturo smiled while furrowing his brows, "Man really? That's nasty dude," he laughed, "why'd ya gotta describe it like that- now I'm gonna be thinking about that for the rest of the day."

Only laughing in response, the lot of you made it to the lunch line, noting it seemed pretty sparse, but then again, you did get here nearly an hour late.

It wasn't much of a surprise that Arturo snugged his way in line just before you, not like you could blame him though, he seemed as hungry as a hound.

Due to the mostly empty line, it moved quite smoothly along which allowed you to get a premature glance at the food available, already relieved that it didn't look nearly as bad as your previous meals.

"Looks even worse than it did last night," you joked smugly.

Graham sighed at your expression, making an effort not to laugh at your god awful jokes, what could he say? He has a shitty sense of humor.

Approaching the trays, you each grabbed one with varying degrees of fervor, Arturo and Quinn nearly bouncing on their toes from eagerness.

You glanced around the room, noting how it seemed like cliques were formed, and how it looked to be separated by class. Recruits occupied the first ten lunch tables, normal agents and operatives took up the next twenty tables, and five tables were left unoccupied for the higher ranking agents. Didn't really look like they even ate here, though. Appeared to be more of a respect thing, than anything.

This mess wasn't all that crowded, but then again, there were two other cafeterias in the facility, the others being for their respective wings.

Looking back to what was at hand, Arturo was already getting served a big heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes, a large side of peas, and three nice slices of beef.

He walked just behind you, and was immediately displaced as he had no idea where to sit, thankfully, Graham pointed out an empty eight seater table for the lot of you.

Walking up to one of the women manning the food, you got a similar dish to what Arturo had just picked out, the only difference being that you got a bit more than him, surprisingly enough.

After getting your meal, you quickly scanned the area to see the man himself gobbling down his food at light speed, suppressing a chuckle, you made your way over to the table.

"Enjoying yourself, are we?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow as you slid into a seat across from him.

All he did was nod enthusiastically in response with his mouth full. Smiling at him, you began to dig into your food, making a note to go much slower than he was.

Graham and Quinn followed shortly after, Quinn sitting next to Arturo while Graham sat down next to you, his plate looking five miles high.

"Jesus dude," you began, "I know you're big, but damn thats a lot of food."

Raising his brow, he looked down to your plate which was almost as full as his, "Don't think you can talk much, (Y/N)."

Quinn laughed at this small interaction, "Was gonna say that y'all must be hungry as hell, but it looks like the dog has ya beat," she gestured to Arturo, still scarfing down his lunch.

You had no idea how he was able to eat so much, so goddamn fast. It felt ridiculous, to look at, and really, it was.

"Did we all even do the same training?" One of the quieter men joked as the two approached your table, both sitting next to you and Graham.

"We couldn't of-" Arturo said with his mouth full, "you two barely have anything on your plates."

The table looked to the pair, and it was true, they both had a sparse selection, only half of what you had laid on each of their trays.

Quinn laughed, "Y'all ain't hungry or something?"

The two of them laughed, but the other replied, "No no, we are, we just wouldn't want to overeat before dinner," he began to eat, then noticed your and Graham's large plates, and held back a choke of laughter.

The entire table took a decent chuckle at this, all sure to not be too loud, unlike everyone else in the mess.

Glancing just over Grahams pale shoulders, you peeked over to the two men, directing you attention towards them

"I uh, I don't think we've actually ever formally met?" You began, "My names (Y/N), you?"

The two looked caught off guard, but the red headed one spoke up anyway, "My name is Austin, Its a pleasure."

The blonde took a moment, "Mine is Asher, its uh, its nice to meet you."

You nodded, smiling at the two of them. They seemed to be good guys, just a bit shy if anything, as ironic as that is.

The rest of the group introduced themselves respectively, exchanging namesakes and small jokes.

After the minor commotion, you all continued to eat in a bit of a comfortable silence, allowing the cafeteria ambiance of trainees fighting, and agents arm wrestling to tune out your thoughts, feeling at peace for just a few minutes.

"It is almost three, huh," Quinn commented, staring at the small clock on the wall.

Your eyes widened, "It is?!"

You snapped your gaze to the clock, confirming your suspicions.

"Great.. Now I'll barely get to eat dinner."

"That's what you're worried about?" Arturo asked, taking a final bite off his plate.

You cocked your eyebrow, confused on whatever else he was referring to.

"We're all supposed to talk to Doomfist? Miller went over that like fifteen times-" he said, sounding a bit concerned, "Don't tell me you were tuning him out."

"Hold on, I'm seeing him again???" you nearly shouted, leaning over the table.

He raised his brow, clearly confused.

"I've been meeting with that guy more times than I can count," you relinquished, eyes sealed shut and hands massaging your temples.

"Wait wait wait," Arturo said, "You've met The Successor before?"

His voice was a bit rushed, and he was talking with his hands more than usual.

"Yeah? About five fucking times at this point," you sighed, anxiety already swelling.

Quinn practically spit out her drink onto her plate, Graham's eyebrows were perpetually raised, and Arturo lay slack jawed.

Eyes wide, you began to worry even more, "Have you guys not met Doomfist before?"

Thoughts of worry shot into your heart, and not just because you had to meet your now boss once more.

"I haven't even thought about talking to him until today!" Quinn enthused, exasperated.

She knotted her eyebrows for a moment, attempting to think, "Why would you even talk to him in the first place? It couldn't have just been about that fight, right?"

Finally, it all came together. None of these guys were just found on top of a building trying to take down a talon agent, they were all scouted, people who willingly got here by choice. You on the other hand, you were the exception, and that terrified you to your core.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah that's why I went- I didn't bring some paperwork when I first got here, and then there was a medical records mix up-" You rambled, trying to make up a good lie that could dupe them, and it seemed to work thanks to Quinn interjecting.

"Nevermind," She sighed, leaning back into her seat, "Thought it'd be interesting but it just sounds... boring."

You nodded, shooting your gaze back down to your nearly empty tray, hands fumbling with each other under the table as you made an effort to not break into a cold sweat.

You noted how Arturo seemed to look on with an emotion you couldn't quite place. Somehow, you had a feeling that he knew, despite your best efforts to bury your emotions.

You didn't even realize that you wanted no one to know of your past till now. Already feeling socially ostracized from your fight with the instructor, and the complex emotions of being known as a so-called pet of Reaper's by the talon leaders didn't quite sit right with you either. For people to know how you got in wouldn't feel all that great, especially if they acted anything like their highest ranking members.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you cleared your throat, standing up with your now empty tray in order to put it away.

"When are we going to be meeting The Successor?"

Arturo sighed, glancing up to the clock, "In about an hour, so at four thirty."

You nodded, turning on your heel so you could return your dishes.

As you walked from the other recruits, you could feel Arturo's eyes bore into the back of your skull.

From what you knew in the short time that you've met him, he was smart, perceptive, and empathetic.

He knew something, you didn't know what, but you hated every single aspect of it.


End file.
